Ad Infinitum
by mamazano
Summary: Time has finally run out for the Pirates of the Caribbean. Or has it...
1. Ad Interim

Written by: mamazano and danglingdingle

Title:Ad Infinitum

Rating: M

Characters: Jack, Gibbs, Will, AnaMaria, Calypso. Elizabeth referenced

Disclaimer: Disney owns them, we just like playing with torturing them.  
Warnings: Character death, disturbing imagery

Summary: Time has finally run out for the Pirates of the Caribbean. Or has it...

Note: This is an AU inspired by a wonderful drabble by cersia5 on Live Journal entitled No More Heroes, in which Elizabeth Swann is captured and hung for piracy.

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 1 - Ad Interim

****

They came for him at dawn. Joshamee Gibbs glanced briefly at Elizabeth, where she slept fitfully in the adjoining cell. Exhaustion had about done her in, poor lass. She stirred, but did not waken as the guards clapped irons on his wrists and led him away.

The newly erected gallows dominated the landscape in the half light of morn. The sound of the workmen's hammers had reverberated through the night, tolling the fate the pirates faced come sun up.

Gibbs had tried to console Elizabeth, but had no real words of comfort to lend. It seemed time had just run out for the both of them, their capture and trial creating a buzz of excitement throughout the islands. The streets was quiet now, but soon would be filled with townsfolk eager to see the spectacle of the infamous pirate king going to the gallows.

Having been sentenced to death by a court martial, Gibbs was not led to the gallows, but instead escorted down to the waterfront where a longboat waited to take him to a ship anchored further out in the bay, where he would await his own fate, scheduled for the following day. He was to be hung from the yardarm of the ship, in front of all the vessels of the squadron which were in port, with all hands turned up to view the punishment. This very public ritualized ceremony was to serve as an example to all present that a life of crime did not pay.

Josh Gibbs, who had resigned himself to this eventual fate, after hearing of the demise of Jack Sparrow and sinking of the _Black Pearl_, was in many ways relieved with this change in venue. A man of the sea, he preferred to die at sea, be it in battle or dancing the hempen jig, at least his soul would find its way to the other side, by way of the ferryman.

The same could not be said for Elizabeth. Even though her husband, Will Turner, was Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, he had no jurisdiction over those that died on land. And, to make matters worse, if the scuttlebutt among the guards at the jail were true, the Admiral meant to hang her in chains as a deterrent to others that might be looking to take up the life of piracy, thus denying her a proper burial.

When the day and hour finally arrived, the officers and men turned out in full costume, the glitter of gay uniforms contrasted strangely with their solemn countenances, and the unbroken silence that prevailed. All the ceremonies on board a man-of-war connected with any momentous event, were conducted with the same strict formality and decorum, whether the circumstance at issue be a public flogging, a burial, or an execution.

Gibbs held his head high as the noose was placed around his neck. He had regrets, sure. But he'd chosen his life freely and would die freely. The drum roll began as the charges were read, the assembled marines watching in somber attention. The final charge was declared and the drum stopped. The moment had finally come; the book of life would forever close on Joshamee Gibbs.

****

The fate of Joshamee Gibbs, Royal Navy deserter and convicted pirate, was dutifully noted in the _Jamaican Courant and Public Advertiser_, and just as dutifully skimmed over, in favor of the more illustrious and scandalous news item reporting the events of the trial and execution of the woman pirate, Elizabeth Swann nee Turner, purported to be King of the Brethren Court.

Relegated to the back page, the sum total of the man's life was distilled down to a mere three paragraphs.

_On Friday a Court Martial was held on board his Majesty's ship Victory, in Port Royal, Jamaica, on charges exhibited by Captain Groves, formerly of his Majesty's ship Dauntless, against Joshamee Gibbs, former midshipman of the said ship, for a breach of the 15__th__ article of war, of desertion to the enemy. The evidence being heard in support of the charges, the prisoner not having prepared his defense, begged time, when the Court readily granted, till Saturday at ten o'clock. _

_At that hour the Court assembled again, and having heard what the prisoner had to offer in his defense, and maturely weighed and considered the same, the Court was of opinion the charges had been fully proved, and accordingly adjudged the prisoner to be hanged at the yard arm of such one of his Majesty's ships, and at such time as the Commissioners of the Admiralty shall direct._

_On Tuesday the sentence of the court-Martial was put in execution on Joshamee Gibbs, late Midshipman of the Dauntless. As the bell struck the appointed hour, Gibbs appeared up the forecastle ladder, in charge of a guard of marines, who slowly conducted him forward. The prisoner mounted the scaffold with the greatest fortitude; he then requested to speak with the Rev. Mr. Birdwood, on the scaffold; he said a few words to him, but in so low a tone of voice that he could not be distinctly heard: and on the blue cap being put over his face, the fatal bow-gun was fired, and he was immediately run up to the starboard fore-yard-arm, with a 32lb. shot tied to his legs. Unfortunately the knot had got round under his chin, which caused great convulsions for a quarter of an hour. After being suspended the usual time, he was lowered into his coffin, which was ready to receive him in a boat immediately under, and conveyed to shore, where the Rev. Birdwood was waiting to claim his body to inter.  
_

****

"Jack!"

Gibbs looked up through a haze to find his former Captain peering down at him, the crooked glint of gold and crinkles around the eyes betraying his somber tones.  
"Mister Gibbs! I thought that might be you."

Gibbs turned his head, only to be overcome with a violent bout of coughing, retching up copious amounts of sea water. His eyes burned from the salt and sun, his ribs and throat swollen and bruised, making swallowing and breathing difficult. Another bout of coughing rendered even speech useless. He felt like death warmed over.

"Are you dead?" he croaked, squinting at Jack hovering above.

The golden grin just grew wider. "No. Are you?" Jack chuckled and straightened, reaching down to help Gibbs to his feet.

Gibbs winced and hobbled to his feet, noting for the first time his surroundings. To his astonishment, he appeared to be standing on the deck of the _Black Pearl_, a ship reputed to have gone down with all hands in a hurricane earlier that summer. Shaking his head to clear it, Gibbs tried again.

"Is this the Locker, then?"

Jack reached in his pocket and pulled out a familiar object. Holding the leather flask out he said simply, "I believe this is yours."

Gibbs took the pouch eagerly and drank, triggering another coughing spasm. After several good blows to the back from Jack, he straightened again and gazed around in wonder.

"God's wounds, Jack! I heard the _Pearl_'d been lost in the hurricane!"

"That she was. She fought long and hard, but in the end the sea won out." Jack wrapped his arm around his old friend's shoulder. "No ship could have done so well or stood so long the weather she had to live through. Plum worn out, she were, that's all." He patted Gibb's shoulder, friendly-like. "The _Pearl_ battled her heart out. She lasted under us for days and days, but she couldn't last for ever. It was long enough mate, 'bout killed me, it did. I was almost glad when it was over." Jack paused, and added in a grave voice, "No better ship was ever left to sink at sea on such a day as that."

Gibbs opened his mouth to protest but Jack hushed him with a raised finger. "I suppose you're wondering how you've come to be standing here, instead of being strung up on that yardarm, courtesy of Bonny King George's Royal Navy."

"Aye. But if the _Pearl_ were lost and I were hung," he said in a hushed voice, "And you say this ain't the Locker…" Gibbs glanced around, almost fearful "Then this must be some other place, altogether."

****


	2. Exsequor Exequor

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 2 - Exsequor Exequor

****

The pamphlets sold at a brisk rate for a penny a sheet. The crowd had begun assembling before sunrise, packing the streets leading to the fort, eager to see the pirates hang. One in particular held their fascination, for not only was she a woman, but a fallen woman at that, born to privilege that few could imagine, only to die like a common criminal. A carnival atmosphere pervaded the crowd, as the hawkers peddled everything from execution broadsides to bottles of ale.

In a one-day trial, the jury, with ample help from the panel of peri-wigged judges, had pronounced all twenty-one pirates guilty. Five were to be hung at Gallows' Point, at Port Royal, the remaining were to be hung in nearby Kingston. Their sentence was pronounced thusly:

_The Crime of Pyracy, of which all of ye have been justly convicted, is of all other Robberies the most aggravating & inhumane, in that being remov'd from the Fears of Surprize, in remote and distant Parts, ye do in Wantonness of Power often add Cruelty to Theft._

_Pirates unmov'd at Distress or Poverty, not only spoil & rob, but do it from Men needy, and who are purchasing their Livelihoods thro' Hazards & Difficulties, which ought rather to move Compassion; and what is still worse, do often Perswasion or Force, engage the inconsiderate Part of them, to their own & Families Ruin, removing them from their Wives & Children, and by that, from the Means that should support them from Misery & Want._

_To a trading Nation, nothing can be so Destructive as Pyracy, or call for more exemplary Punishment; besides, the national Reflection it infirs: It cuts off the Returns of Industry, & those plentiful Importations that alone can make an Island flourishing; and it is your Aggravation, that ye have been the Chiefs & Rulers in these licentious & lawless Practices. _

_However, contrary to the Measures ye have dealt, ye have been heard with Patience, and though little has, or possibly could, have been said in Excuse or Extenuation of your Crimes, yet Charity makes us hope that a true & sincere Repentance (which we heartily recommend) may entitle ye to Mercy and Forgiveness, after the Sentence of the Law has taken place, which now remains upon me to pronounce._

_You Elizabeth Swann, Moises Champnes, John du Frock, William Mangus, and Peter Scudamore. Ye & each of you, are adjudg'd & sentenc'd, to be carried back to the Place from whence you came, from thence to the Place of Execution, outside the walls of the Fort, and therein within the Flood-Marks, to be hanged by the Neck till ye are dead._

_After this, ye, and each of you shall be taken down, and your Bodies hanged in Chains. And the Lord have Mercy on your Souls._

_Pursuant to the sentence given by the Court of Admiralty, you are hereby directed to carry the aforementioned Malefactors to the Place of Execution, to Morrow Morning at Nine of the Clock, & so there within the Flood-Marks, cause them to be hanged by the Neck till they are dead, for which, this shall be your Warrant. Given under my Hand, this 28th Day of September 17**._

_To Joseph Gordyn, Provost-Marshal._

_The Bodies remove in Chains, to the Gibbets already erected on Deadman's Cay._

****

The guards came for them at dawn, prodding the condemned through the crowded streets down to the waterline, where the hastily built scaffold stood along the rocky shore. Watching the procession, led by a mounted officer carrying the symbolic silver oar of the Admiralty, were commoner and aristocrat alike, the latter perched on balconies along the way. The street crowd jeered, pelting the prisoners with rocks and filth as they shuffled in a ragged formation.

As the condemned were led forward, they could hear the hawkers peddling their dying words, printed the day before. Nothing but lies, the printers didn't fear retaliation from rogues such as them, intent only on reaping a profit from their death. The crowd heckled as each of the pirates was led upon the scaffold, their arms trussed with ropes. A noose was placed around the neck of each of the convicted, their feet purposely left loose, to afford the "dance upon air" the drunken crowd savored.

A short prayer was offered, the scaffolding released and the condemned were launched into eternity. After they hung for the prescribed length of time, they were declared dead, their now cold bodies slathered in hot tar and fitted into specially built iron gibbets, to be taken by boat to Deadman's Cay, to hang as a dread warning courtesy of the Admiralty to any sailor contemplating the merry life of piracy.

****

"We just can't leave her there, mate."

Jack paced the deck of the _Black Pearl_, his half-hung quartermaster trailing along step-for-step.

"It's fool's folly, Jack." Gibbs swallowed hard, feeling the noose tightening around his throat once again. "There are bound t' be guards, and as much as I was fond of Elizabeth, I see no reason t' be courtin' death by sailin' back t' the place I were delivered from."

Jack turned, a whirling dervish, his hands painting his emotions in the space between them. "Don't you see? She can't pass on, not while she is there, on land."

"Pass on?" Gibbs' brow furrowed. "You mean, her soul is…"

"Left to wander, aye." Jack pointed a finger at Gibbs. "Same as yours would be, if they hadn't put t' sea with you."

Gibbs rubbed his neck, still raw and swollen from the rope's grip. Fortuna had smiled on him that day; he wasn't too keen about testing her again.

"It's the least I can do." Jack frowned, staring at the distant horizon.

It had been three days, since Gibbs had woke to find himself on the deck of the_ Black Pearl_, a ship purported to have been lost in a hurricane earlier that summer. The explanation had been as bizarre as the awakening itself, not that Gibbs remembered much of it. Apparently, he'd been aboard the _Flying Dutchman_, only to have been discovered to be not quite as dead as believed.

"But how'd you get the _Pearl_ back?" Gibbs had asked, once reassured that he was indeed alive and not a ghost, on a ghost ship.

"Long story, mate." Jack had flashed his familiar golden grin. "Suffice to say, I was given a gift in gratitude." His grin had faded though, when he was told the fate of the pirate king.

Now, it seemed Jack was determined to return that favor, by way of retrieving Elizabeth's body, to allow her a proper burial at sea. As he told Gibbs, in a grim voice, "It's the least I can do."

****


	3. Amor Fati

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 3 – Amor Fati

****

They put in at Old Harbour, nestling the _Pearl_ in an obscure cove, close to the mouth of the bay. The crew that Jack had picked up in Tortuga was not keen on sailing anywhere near Port Royal, not the most popular place among pirates, since the recent rash of hangings. In the end, only seven would make the trip, including Jack and Gibbs. Fortunately, one of those seven was AnaMaria, recently widowed, and ready to put her brief life on shore behind her. She was one of the few Jack could trust enough to leave with the _Pearl,_ as he and Gibbs made their way by boat to Deadman's Cay.

The cay itself was nothing but a spit of sand and mangroves, sitting at the mouth of Port Royal's harbor, where the remains of several pirates swung desolately in the breeze. Their tarred and gibbeted bodies served as a gruesome reminder, to those aboard the passing ships entering and leaving the busy port, of the price of piracy.

It had been almost a month since the pirates, including Elizabeth Swann, had been hung in chains, enough time for the pirate hunting fervor to die down and life on Port Royal's waters to return to its normal routine. The fleet had dispersed, the ships deployed to where pirates had been reported to be lurking. Even with only a minimal number of ships in port, the area bristled with a naval presence, enough to warn away the most stanchworth of pirates.

For Gibbs, it was a frightful trip, his body still bearing the marks of his recent encounter with the King's men. A superstitious man under normal circumstances, returning to the scene of his botched execution, to retrieve the corpse of one not so fortunate, was more than fool's folly – it was disaster waiting to strike.

Jack brushed away his protests with an impatient wave. "Bullocks. There is a worse curse awaiting us if we do nothing."

As Gibbs could not think of a curse worse than certain capture and death, he did not venture to ask Jack to elaborate. Suffice to say, his nerves were on edge the entire passage along the rugged coast. It did not help matters that a thick fog blanketed the area, lending an ethereal atmosphere to the surrounding rocks and shore. A bad omen to be sure.

Jack begged to differ, seeing the fog as a most opportune occurrence, concealing their arrival at the small cay, muffling their oars and grate of keel against sand as they pulled their boat ashore. There was little fear of discovery, though – the guard assigned to patrol the area was sitting safely at anchor, waiting for the fog to lift, before making its daily rounds. The cay itself was quite desolate and deserted, uninhabited except for the swaying corpses in their iron cages.

It was difficult to recognize the body of Elizabeth Swann, the ravages of time and tide having taken their toll. It was a gruesome sight, not for the fainthearted. Whoever had tarred the body had left the face uncovered, perhaps out of deference to her gender. Regardless of the reason, the gulls had feasted freely. Both eyes were gone, and chunks of missing flesh exposed a cheekbone, stark white against the remaining putrid flesh.

After a brief glance to determine they had the right corpse, Jack threw a canvas shroud over the gibbet, while Gibbs hacked at the rusting chain with a boarding axe. Another blow broke through the cage, and the two men hurried to wrap the body in the canvas sheet, tying the bundle with ropes before placing it carefully in the bottom of the boat. They needed to move quickly – the sun beginning to burn off the remaining tendrils of fog from around the island.

Jack turned and gave the remaining pirates a brief salute. "Sorry, mates," he murmured before climbing into the boat, careful not to step on the bundle lying there.

Gibbs swallowed and rubbed his throat, taking one last, fearful glance at the gibbets, before taking up the oars, and muttering, "There, but for the grace of God go I."

Jack glanced quickly over at his quartermaster. "Not so sure if grace had anything t' do with it. Heard you dropped like a stone when the rope broke."

Gibbs winced, his bruised ribs a constant reminder of his less than graceful plummet off the yardarm into the bay. Apparently, he'd sunk like a stone, the 32-pound shot tied to his feet helping matters along. After only a cursory look around, he'd been declared "dead," the book of life officially closing on Joshamee Gibbs.

Elizabeth had not been so fortunate, he reflected, glancing down sadly at the crumbled bundle at their feet. Jack had kept his own counsel about the entire affair, approaching the task at hand with dogged determination, and copious amounts of rum. If he was mourning Elizabeth, he was not letting on.

"Poor lass," Gibbs said aloud, shaking his head. "Don't care what they say, she didn't deserve t' die like a dog."

Jack's eyes flicked at Gibbs and away, shrugging one shoulder. With a flutter of hands towards their burden, he said in a philosophical tone, "Choice, not chance, determines ones destiny." His face hardened. "Elizabeth made her choice long ago."

The remainder of the trip was made in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. For Elizabeth, there were no more choices to be made.

****


	4. Quid Nunc?

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 4 – Quid Nunc?

****

"What now, Cap'n?"

Gibbs gestured to the crumbled canvas bundle lying on the deck of the _Black Pearl_.

Jack glanced briefly down before returning to scanning the horizon. Apparently satisfied with what he saw – or more accurately, didn't see, he closed his spy glass with a definitive snap.

"We summon the _Dutchman_."

Ana scowled. "And how?" She nodded her head towards the vast expanse of empty sea surrounding them. "Stick our heads under water and shout?"

"No." Jack gave her an exasperated look. "We wait for the opportune moment."

She folded her arms and glared at Jack. "And just when is that? We've been sailing around in circles for two days."

"These things take time," Jack huffed.

Ana narrowed one eye. "How much time?" She jerked a thumb towards the shroud on deck. "Much longer and there won't be anything left of her."

"Ana's right," Gibbs added. "What with this heat, one might say that time was of the essence."

"That ain't all that's of an essence," Ana muttered, wrinkling her nose.

Jack didn't appear to be listening. "Perhaps he doesn't know we are here," he mumbled, scanning the horizon once again.

"Maybe we need t' perform a proper burial," Gibbs suggested.

"That's it!" Jack, having apparently come to a decision, whirled and waved his hands at his crew. "We'll just have to chuck her in."

As his crew members stared incredulously, Jack began barking out instructions.

"Well! Don't just stand there! Gibbs, fetch a line and make fast the body. We don't need her drifting off, just yet. Ana, we'll need some rum, and a Book of Prayer, if you can find one. Nix, scratch that last one, won't do no good for what we need."

After another speechless moment, the two did as directed.

As he tied the line, Gibbs observed the carefully stitched shroud that contained the remains of Elizabeth. He had wondered why Jack had asked for the body to be taken to the great cabin when they'd boarded the _Pearl_. Always a deft hand with a needle, Jack had painstakingly sewn the shroud closed, a final, traditional gesture of respect for the dead.

Ana returned with several bottles of rum, one of which she took a healthy swallow from before handing it to Gibbs. The others she gave to Jack, along with a black, leather-bound book.

"I couldn't find that book. So I brought you this."

Jack gave the first pages a cursory look. "Ah, Ovid. Good choice!" He took a swig of rum and began leafing through the mouldy tome. With a tarred finger he tapped on a page, propping the book atop the capstan and weighted it open with another bottle.

Jack gestured to Gibbs and the others, who hoisted the shrouded body of Elizabeth and poised it over the rail. Clearing his voice, he began to read, stumbling over the translation.

_My hands are tired from the many blows  
They have inflicted on my punished flesh,  
But still I stretch them to you across the sea,  
And show the tragic remnant of my hair  
And pray you through the tears wept for my crime:  
Turn back your prow, O Theseus, reverse your course!  
Though I should die before you come to me,  
To you I trust my bones and burial.  
Finis_

The crew murmured their responses and gently let go, the soft splash sounding a final farewell.

Jack reached over the rail and poured a stream of amber rum as a solemn benediction. "Ta, luv. Sleep well." Then, with a whirl of coat tails he made his way to the helm, where he once again proceeded to scan the horizon.

"Well, that's that," Gibbs said wearily, running a hand through his hair. "All that's left is for the Ferryman to see her home."

"Aye," Ana said softly. "Suppose he'll show up?"

Gibbs gave her a puzzled look. "The _Dutchman_'s Captain is duty bound to escort those that die at sea to the other side."

"Aye!" Ana said. "But she didn't die at sea."

Gibbs opened his mouth to reply but slowly shut it again. He peered over the railing, where the pale shroud could be seen bobbing beneath the surface. "Don't reckon Jack thought of that."

After a short while, Jack came striding over to the two of them, peering over the rail as well. "He ought t' have been here by now," he muttered. He gave the tether line a tug or two.

"Ana was saying that perhaps it's 'cause Elizabeth didn't die at sea," Gibbs offered helpfully.

"Was she now?" Jack frowned.

Ana frowned back. "According to my people, if a body is not given a proper burial, the soul is doomed to wander. She could be anywhere by now."

"Well isn't that just bloody perfect!" Jack began pacing, waving his arms around. "I didn't go through all this bloody trouble t' feed the bloody sharks!" Grabbing up a line he quickly tied a slip knot and flung the end over the yardarm and made fast. "If it takes a bloody buggering death at sea to get bloody Will Turner's attention, that's what he'll bloody get."

Cap'n?" Gibbs gave Jack a worried look.

Jack continued to mutter, tugging on the line before stepping up onto the edge of the rail.

"Don't be daft, Jack," Ana snapped, her sharpness betraying her worry. "I'm sure there's another way to summon him."

Jack slipped the noose over his head, shooting an annoyed glance at Ana. "Aye, but this way is much faster."

And with that, Jack stepped off the edge of the rail, only to jerk upward with a clean snap, before dangling lifeless above the tranquil sea.

****


	5. Arduum sane munus

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 5 – Arduum sane munus

****

Like a phoenix rising, the _Flying Dutchman_ surfaced, the sunlight glistening off the majestic ship as she shook off the the water's weight with both grace and power. The crew on the _Black Pearl _shrank back in trepidation; the mere presence of the death ship was considered an ill omen, one that bespoke of tragedies at sea, and calamities beyond one's control. Although the current Captain performed his duties with benevolence, the legends still persisted; the mere mention of the ship striking fear into the hearts of sailors throughout the Seven Seas.

As the _Dutchman_ drew abreast of the _Pearl_, there was a loud, wet SPLOCK, and Gibbs and Ana found themselves in the presence of Will Turner. Though his outward appearance had not changed, he was no longer the young, naïve lad they'd first met. The years as Ferryman had aged him; years of death and despair reflecting in his dark brown eyes. Windows to the soul, they call them, and Will's soul bore the burden of a thousand deaths times ten.

Yet, his smile was the same, as he quirked one questioning eyebrow at the two lines stretched taut over the rail.

"Will! Thank goodness you are here!" Gibbs flailed his arms around. "You might not be too late, perhaps you can save him!"

Gesturing with his chin, Will rocked back on his heels, arms crossed and asked Gibbs, "What desperate emergency was it this time? Or was he just bored?"

"Sir?" Gibbs asked, puzzled.

The younger man shook his head amusedly. "He hasn't told you, has he?"

Ana scowled. "Told us what?"

"Hello, Ana. It's good to see you." Will smiled, his face softened as he added, "I have a message for you, from your husband."

"Andre?" Ana's eyes widened in surprise. "You've seen him?"

Will nodded and said in a gentle voice, "I picked him up in the wreckage after the storm."

"Ah," Ana's voice caught and she looked away quickly, clenching her fists tightly as she took several deep breaths. "I knew he was gone, the cock had crowed at dusk and the milk soured." She turned, eyes glistening. "Did he suffer?"

"No. He asked me if I were to see you, to let you know."

"Thank you."

Will nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry, Ana."

She shrugged. "Life is for living, not for regrets. We had good years together."

Gibbs, dancing impatiently, interrupted with an apologetic grimace. "Pardon me - Sir - but ought we be worrying about Jack?"

Will laughed. "Yes, you might want to haul him aboard, before he gets in too foul a mood. He no doubt wants to see me about something."

Gibbs only stared at him, wide eyed.

A faint voice floated up from the water's surface. "A little help?"

"Jack!" Gibbs rushed over and peered down at the body of his Captain in astonishment.

"Mister Gibbs!" Jack flailed one arm out and, the other clawing on the rope tight around his throat, feet kicking helplessly, as he snapped at his quartermaster in a strangled voice. "If you could be so kind, some help, please?"

"Aye, AYE, Cap'n!" Gibbs said brightly. Turning to the befuddled crew he shouted, "You heard the Cap'n! Haul in that line, make haste!"

The men put their backs to it and soon had their Captain back on deck. Jack landed with a not so graceful thump at Will's feet.

"About time you showed up," Jack groused, looking up at Will while relieving himself from his bonds.

Will sighed. "What is it this time, Jack? No, wait, let me guess. You have an urgent message from the King. Or perhaps another birthday greeting. Or you need to give a message to a friend of a friend who might have been passing on as he was passing through."

"He's done this before?" Ana asked, incredulously.

Jack struggled to his feet, twisting his neck left and right and rotating his jaw a few times. Pointing a finger, he said, "Messenger to the god, I am. A regular Hermes."

"Jack, how many times must I tell you, I am not a god. Simply immortal." Will sighed again. "I have work to do, Jack. I cannot be constantly stopping to find out what it is you think is so imminent."

"Elizabeth." The name dropped between them like a rock.

Will's eyes narrowed. "What does Elizabeth have to do with this?" he asked in a hard voice.

"Thought you might like to be reunited, so I brought her along." Jack's voice matched Will's tone, edged with a venomous smile.

"You brought her here. On the _Pearl_." Will voice was sceptical, obviously expecting another ruse.

"Only one minor technicality, mate, though I'm sure the two of you can work around it." Jack said flippantly, obviously miffed at his reception from Will.

"And what is that, Jack?"

"She's dead."

****


	6. Penetalia Mentis

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 6 – Penetalia Mentis

****

"Elizabeth is dead." Will gave Jack an incredulous look. "Haha. Very funny, Jack."

"Don't believe me?" Jack waved a vague hand towards the remaining taut line over the rail. "See for yourself."

Will gave a worried look at the line. "Stop joking around. You don't have to make up something so ludicrous to excuse yourself."

"Fine! Don't believe me." Jack threw up his hands. "Not sure why I went through the bother."

"Cap'n's tellin' the truth, sir." Gibbs reached in his pocket and pulled out a much folded paper. "Course it's mostly a pack of lies, such as my own demise there on the back."

Will stared at the newspaper, the words screaming from the page. Hands shaking, he turned on Jack and asked tersely, "Why didn't you do something?

"Me?" Jack shouted. "How was I t' know? Since when the bloody hell is it my job to save damsels in distress?"

"Gibbs was there, he would've told you."

Jack jabbed a finger at Will. "She was already dead."

"Dead because of you!" Will's anger boiled over.

"Me?" Jack sputtered. "T'wasn't me who went off gallivanting with pirates, getting herself and crew caught and hung."

Will's voice was like ice. "She'd never had gone off if you hadn't filled her head with some crazy romantic notion of pirates."

"HA!" Jack got in Will's face. "She was enamored with pirates long before I pulled her scrawny carcass out of the drink. Well, she certainly found out the truth of it, didn't't she?"

"And if it weren't't for you she'd never turned pirate." Will's jaw was clenched, along with his fists.

"Nor had anything to do with you." Jack pressed on, ignoring the danger signs, intent on having his say. "Or do you forget? All set to marry Norrington she was, and watch me hang. Never had any qualms there. Nor when your sweet seductress bestowed her Judas kiss on me. Showed her true colors, didn't't she?" Jack words were biting. "She didn't't mind being judge and jury, as long as she was getting what she wanted. Well, I'm sorry to inform you, but payback's a poxy bitch."

Will grabbed Jack and slammed him against the mast, his rage a fearsome sight to behold. "This is my wife you are talking about. The mother of my child. You bastard!"

"Your wife? Hardly. Yes, a child whose mother is dead and father cursed. Did Elizabeth think of these things?" Jack hissed, "Or was she too intent on living her adventure she forgot all about her responsibilities? Ten years, and the curse would be lifted. You still have three years, mate. Did she think of those consequences? Did she ever bother to tell you where she hid the chest?"

The pale, cold fury spelled in Will's eyes, when he raised a hand to Jack's chest, made his skin prickle, mouth opening to suck back the words that crossed the invisible line of Will's patience, to no avail.

Jack gasped in horror when he looked down and saw Will's hand disappearing through his clothes, and snapped his head up at the feeling of the hand sliding through his skin.

Holding Jack's gaze, Will's eyes narrowed in anger, his hand delving deeper into Jack's ribcage until he wrapped his fingers around Jack's heart.

Jack had stopped breathing, the only sign of life left was his Adam's apple working up and down in his throat, too far beyond reason to form words, or even close his eyes for an escape.

Slowly, Will withdrew his hand and wiped it on Jack's coat, the rage written over his face turning into sadness. "I needed to check if you still have a heart, Jack. I was hoping maybe you'd lost it."

Will's words struck a chord in Jack, bringing him back to awareness of his surroundings. He had let everything just happen so far, had not resisted Will, had lost control of his tongue, perhaps gone too far, but he would not let himself be misunderstood.

"Maybe that's just it, mate. I have mine."

Shooting an irritated glance at the hand still holding him to the mast, Jack swiped it away and slipped from Will's reach.

"What does it matter anyway, eh? You're free to grab your charming fish bait," Jack flailed a hand to the general direction of the line stretched over the railing, "and run along, have yourselves a wonderful century together and forget all about ol' Jack. Just like in the good old days."

"Is that what this is all about? About you?"

For a beat, Jack only stared at Will with his face expressionless. Then he heaved a weary sigh and swished a hand at Will, turning to step towards the railing.

"Think whatever you want, for all I care."

Pointing around, gesturing for AnaMaria and Gibbs to haul Elizabeth's body aboard, Jack's mouth was set in a determined line.

Will stood a step away from him, arms crossed over his chest, his forehead scrunched in deep thought as he followed the crew's actions in growing impatience.

Once the shrouded corpse finally thudded wetly on the deck, everybody stood still, solemnly staring at the soaked bundle, the strange sense of gruesome apprehension hanging in the air.

It was Jack who ultimately broke the silence, mirroring Will's stance and nodding his jaw towards Elizabeth.

"Well, go on then, what are you waiting for?"

The utterly lost look on Will's face, his eyes searching around for something, the way his mouth chewed air in search for words, wrapped another kind of hand around Jack's heart.

Lifting an alarmed gaze to catch Jack's, then back to Elizabeth, and back to Jack again, Will shared a point of a fact he'd gradually grown aware, and was suddenly ascertained of.

"She's not here."

****


	7. Corpus Delicti

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 7 – Corpus Delicti

****

"What'da mean she's not there?" Jack's eyes were bugged out in frustration. "I sewed her in there meself."

Will had squatted next to the sodden canvas shroud, and was running a finger along the carefully sewn stitching. "You did this?"

Jack hitched his shoulders. "Well, I didn't't kill her, if that's what you mean. She was already dead when I found her."

Will paused and studied Jack for a long moment. "I know that. You seem so hateful towards her, yet you went and retrieved her body and prepared her for burial." His brow furrowed as he asked, "Why?"

"Seemed the least I could do, mate." Jack glanced away briefly. "Thought you might want her back."

Will stared at Jack for another moment, then with a deliberate motion, pulled his knife from his belt.

"What are you doing?" Jack narrowed his eyes. "Don't believe me?"

Will sighed and looked up. "Yes, Jack. I believe you. Is it too much to think I might want to see her?"

"It's not a pretty sight." Gibbs ventured. "The gulls had been at her. She was mostly gone by the time we reached her."

Ana waved an impatient hand to hush him. "Don't you see? He needs to know." She glared at the rest of the crew and added, "How else can he make his peace?"

The crew held their breath as Will carefully cut through the stitching, revealing the gruesome contents inside with visibly shaking hands. They had good reason to hold their breath, the stench was almost overwhelming.

Will didn't seem to be affected, in fact, his face softened and he reached and respectfully brushed a stray lock of hair away from the gruesomely ravished face, careful not to disturb the decay.

Ana squatted next to Will and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Her soul is wandering, searching for a resting place. Am I right?"

Will shook his head, eyes fixed on the deconstruction of his beloved wife. "I'm not sure what the rules are for those on land. At sea, she would have come to me."

Jack, who kept his distance and whose face displayed a myriad of emotions, settled on a thought. "Ask HER. She'll know."

"Who?" Will slowly straightened up to face him. "Isn't it a bit late to ask Elizabeth where she went off to?"

"Not HER, mate!" Jack rolled his eyes. "HER!"

"Her?" It was Will's turn to roll his eyes. "Jack, I should do us all a favor and turn _you_ into fish bait, you know that?"

"Already been done, mate. Remember? Well, cephalopod bait," Jack waved a dismissive hand. "Either way," Jack smirked, then, as if catching himself stealing from the collection plate, he fell serious again.

"Really, I worry about you sometimes, William, you're not always all that quick on the uptake, are you?" He began to pace, weaving his words with his hands. "Who was it that put you into this position, with her "touch of destiny" and all that mumbo jumbo? Who was it that made up this buggering clause of having to wait ten years to set foot on shore, and be cursed unless your dearly beloved was waiting? Who should be here, right here, on this deck, explaining what in the name of fuck you're supposed to do now?" He stopped pacing and pointed a finger at Will. "How do you contact this mighty goddess employer of yours?"

"I don't." Will frowned in consternation. "She just… appears. When it suits her fancy."

"Why that's just bloody inconvenient. Isn't that just like a goddess for you. Capricious and fickle, never around when you need them." Jack lifted a pondering finger to his lip. "Now, why does that sound so familiar?"

Not indulging in further self-knowledge, Jack took a step and faced the crew determinedly. "Obviously there's no point in dangling the gudgeon overboard again, that didn't attract even the lesser gods."

"I'm not-"

Jack stifled Will's objections with a sharp show of a palm and a tutting sound.

Rocking on his heels, squinting at his rum bunch of a crew and the respective guests inquisitively, Jack planted his hands to his sword and pistol, steadied himself, and with a nudge of his chin, prompted; "Any…suggestions? Ideas? Anyone? Anyone? Turner?"

Will turned his eyes away from Jack like a schoolboy trying to avoid answering a question he'd not studied for, busying himself with pulling the shroud over Elizabeth's face again.

Gibbs opened his mouth to pitch in, face perplexed, but was interrupted before he got out more than an "I-"

"No," came the stern answer from the Captain of the ship. "Next?" Jack's gaze caught AnaMaria, who shifted on her feet nervously, picking on a loose thread on her shirt.

"Nothing? What is this? On any normal day, the lot of you would be offering your wits and wisdom, and now you just stand there like some feculent piles of upturned shit! Look at you!"

Will collected himself and swiftly made towards Jack. "That's enough from you for one day, Jack."

The snarl earned a brief, seemingly nonchalant glance to his direction, and not much more. Jack faced his crew again, but his words were aimed at Will. "There is a soul running around on the loose somewhere. Your…wife's, no less, and we have no means of retrieving it, unless we can think of a way to get your handler to show herself." Jack turned to Will again, eyes cold, face hardened. "How's that for a day's worth?"

Closing in on Jack, hands clenched into fists, Will lowered his voice into a rumble. "The day's not over yet. But your's may have been numbered."

Jack swept his gaze to his side, smirking. "Aye, and how much would that have to do with you, luv?"

During the rest of their match of staring each other down, neither of the men noticed the crew backing up, startled, the religious ones grasping for their rosaries with their hearts pounding in their ears.

A voice wrapped in venomous velvet shot clearly through the air.

"Not as much as I had hoped."

****


	8. Spectaculorum Procedere Debet

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 8 – Spectaculorum Procedere Debet

****

"Tia Dalma!"

Jack swaggered his way towards the new arrival, arms wide in welcome, only to get his gesture rudely thwarted.

"Silence!" The sharp command blew across the deck like an errant gale, causing more than one crew member to cower. Though she resembled Tia Dalma in form, her fluid movement and presence bespoke of the powers and mysteries of the sea.

"Calypso." Will acknowledged her with a slight bow of the head, casting his eyes to the deck respectfully.

She nodded in turn. "Captain Turner." Waving a hand, she asked with narrowed eyes, "I see you raised the _Pearl_, same as your predecessor."

"Not quite the same." Will spoke with a familiarity not allowed to mere mortals. "I did not demand Jack's soul as payment."

Calypso smiled, beguiling. "Only him heart."

Jack's eyes widened, eyebrows shooting far under his headscarf in disbelief. Turning to Will, with questioning eyes he began to speak, and had Will hush him with a stern look. For once, Jack saw it best to stow it.

"I demanded nothing." Will's tone was firm, his eyes cold when returning to Calypso. "I returned a favor, as a friend."

"And yet," Calypso continued, sliding up to Will and running a seductive hand along his sleeve, "You allow him to stay with you, whenever he chooses, hmm?."

"Now wait a minute," Jack's patience for charades broke as he took two strides over and wedged himself between the two. "Captain Turner never once reneged on his vows." He pointed a finger towards Will, then the forgotten bundle at their feet. "Loyal to a fault, is Will here. Played his role to perfection, couldn't have done it better meself. And now he finds himself out to sea without the proverbial paddle, so to speak."

Jack stepped next to Will, underlining his words with stiff movements, until they stood side by side in front of the goddess.

"Can you help?" Will gestured to the shrouded corpse, seeing an opening to stop the nonsense and concentrate on what was important.

Calypso hunched down, flicking the canvas sheet away from the face of the dead, Elizabeth's sightless eye sockets staring back in silent reproach. "Perhaps." The sea goddess covered the face once more and straightened, her voice gentle in response. "I do not know all the ways of the earthbound souls, only that she is destined to roam unless her body and soul become one once more."

"Her soul is trapped on land?" AnaMaria approached the group apprehensively. "My people speak of the duppy that roams, unable to find rest."

Calypso nodded, intrigued by the new participant. "Dis is true. De duppy wanders when der is no burial. Or when der is no peace." She lapsed into her island accent. "De ways of de earth, dey are not de same as dat of de sea."

"So all we have t' do is give Elizabeth a proper burial, 'cepting this time on land." Gibbs offered.

Jack grinned and turned to Will, miming enthusiastically as he talked. "There you go. We'll take her ashore and dig a hole. Say a few words and chuck her in the grave. No muss, no fuss, and you've your bonny lass once again."

Will scowled at Jack with a huff. "Do you really think it would be so simple?"

"William is right," Calypso said. "Too much time has passed." She gestured to the shrouded corpse. "Her soul has traveled to find de ferryman. She no longer roams dese islands."

"Ferryman?" Gibbs puzzled. "Ain't Will the ferryman?"

"Of de sea." Calypso swept an arm around her. "Only de souls lost at sea come to him."

"Wait a bloody minute." Jack pointed to the musty tome that he'd read out of earlier. "You mean t' say we have t' find that other bloody fellow? What's his bloody name, again?" He strolled to the book swiftly and began flipping through it impatiently.

"Charon," Will said self-evidently, following Jack.

"Right." Jack lipped over his shoulder to Will. "And while we're at it, the bloody river Styx as well."

"Who is this Charon?" Gibbs asked.

"The Ferryman of the Dead." Will took the book from Jack and scanned it quickly, paying no mind to Jack's protests. "The ancient Greeks claim Charon only accepts the dead which are buried with proper rites, and can pay for their passage," Will recited out of memory, simultaneously eyeing the tome. "Otherwise they are doomed to wander on the banks of the Styx for hundreds of years."

"So we're back to burying her." Ana noted.

"Yes." Will looked up from the book. "Properly," he added, with a glare aimed at Jack.

Jack, in return, raised his hands in surrender and gave his most innocent look. "Tried that, mate. Didn't work."

"On land." Calypso interrupted. "Dust to dust."

"Oh yes, right." Jack waved a flippant hand. "So all we have to do is cart her carcass around while we search for this other bloody ferryman." He paused, finger raised as he remembered something. "Which brings up another important and muchly overlooked item." He pointed at Will. "Him."

"Yeesss?" Calypso asked, eyes narrowed.

"Yes. Like what the bloody hell does he do now his dearly beloved is no longer waiting, eh? And who's going to go traipsing all over the bloody world seeking this Charon-bloke?" Jack grew suddenly dead serious, deflated. "No land clause, remember?"

Will picked up the cue and turned to Calypso. "Despite his obvious disdain for Elizabeth, Jack does have a point."

"Der is always a way, if dis is what you wish," she said, once again sidling up to Will, smiling sweetly. With a malicious grin aimed towards Jack, Calypso ran her hand along Will's arm and grasped his hand in hers. Turning it palm up, she traced the lines in his palm with her finger, muttering an incantation. "You seek the one that truly loves you." Calypso's voice dripped honey.

"You must find this true love before the moon wanes once more." She released his hand and said in an ominous voice, "Remember, the moonless tide will turn but twice before you must return to de sea."

"And what about the heart?" Jack asked, arms crossed.

"De heart is safe, as long as de love is true." Calypso pointed at the shrouded corpse. "She must be found before all is known. Now go. De compass will guide you."

"A bit bloody impractical, isn't it? Not to mention obvious. Dragging a bloody rotting corpse along."

"Jack…" Will's tone was warning.

"Dat is not necessary. A part of her will do."

Jack snapped his fingers. "There you have it! We'll just take a bit of her, a finger perhaps, and leave the rest to the fishes. What say you?"

"I say you're bloody disrespectful as well as disgusting." Will bit each word out through his teeth.

Jack sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "It's not like she's bloody there, mate! You, out of all people ought t' know that! Bunch of bones in a sack of skin is all that is," Jack's voice grew gradually lower as Will's face turned mournful again, looking at anything but Jack.

"Nothing more." Putting a hand to Will's shoulder, Jack squeezed it and sought Will's gaze. "You said it yourself, Will." Jack shook his head for emphasis. "She's not here."

At Will's vague attempt of a smile, he continued; "Now, we need to chop her up." Jack clapped Will on the back forcefully, adding with a cheerful tone, "You want to do the honours?"

****

Jack stood with his fists on his hips, hat tilted to the back of his head as he watched his crew fleeing to every which way direction. Every man and woman had suddenly remembered they had tasks that couldn't wait a second longer, leaving their Captain to silently curse them as the churlish, milk-livered bloody goats they were.

Jack glanced at Will's direction, his back, to be precise, since the Ferryman had opted to keep out of the way and to his own peace, staring at the sea instead of accepting Jack's generous offer of mauling his wife's remains.

Jack knelt to the fully revealed corpse, muttering about all kinds of goddesses and gods beings and the like, maddeningly unhelpful, dissolving into crabs at the face of the puny needs of humans.

Shrugging, he rolled his sleeves up and took a deep breath.

"You can join in any time you like, mate, I don't mean to hog her all to meself!" Jack whooped. Grinning at Will's back hunching in response, Jack grabbed Elizabeth's wrist. "Mind lending a hand, darling?"

Grimacing at the stench that flowed to his nostrils when he lifted the arm, Jack took a firm grip of what was left of Elizabeth's palm, closed his eyes tightly and wrapped his fist around the index finger. "I thought you might."

A quick twist, a turn, an off-putting crunching sound, and the finger was hanging on a stringy strip of skin.

Peeking through one eye, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, Jack pulled the anatomy apart until the dermis gave away with a soft *splock*.

"Ah-ha!" Jack held the severed finger up like the Holy Grail.

Noticing Will cringing at the railing, Jack clambered to his feet, holding the prize at an agreeable distance. "I still left some for you mate, feel free to dig in!" Jack hollered, strutting towards the Great Cabin.

With a few strides, Will was in front of Jack, his face pale with anger. "You don't know when to stop, do you Jack?"

The strangely light tone of Will's made Jack take a step back.

"Look, William." Jack gestured calmingly, pinching the finger between his thumb and index finger. "If you don't mind, I'm going to find a box for this," Jack wiggled the item in question for Will to see, while Will did his best not to see it. "Unless of course you insist on doing that yourself, to which I have no objections whatsoever."

"I'm not going to take it." Will flinched at the thought.

"Why not?" Jack was genuinely surprised. "One would think you'd want to, it's your wife's."

Will looked away. "This was your bright idea."

"What, you'd really rather have the whole lump to lug around? Besides, she is, or rather, were, your wife."

Will said nothing, only kept looking away from Jack.

Jack frowned in consternation at the lack of a response, smacked his lips, and pushed Will aside. "Well I'm not going to bloody well carry it in me pocket, am I?"

"Captain!"

Jack got almost to the door when Gibbs rushed to Jack, having waited for the opportune moment, and halted him with a hand to his shoulder.

"Aye?" Jack barked, silently praying for a moment alone.

"When are you going to let the man mourn?" Gibbs' quiet voice was filled with true concern.

Jack pursed a displeased mouth and turned to Gibbs. "Sometimes I wonder, with the depth of your insight, Mr. Gibbs, how it can be, that ye've only been shot thrice." The look Jack glared at Gibbs served as a warning. "I trust you keep this one to yourself. My shots ain't got names on 'em anymore."

Satisfied by Gibbs straightening himself like the ex-navy he was, Jack softened and waved the finger dismissively. "There's enough time in the world for him to weep and wail when it's due." Jack's voice was almost apologetic. "Right now he's no use if he's flopping around like a limp cock."

With that, Jack wandered off to find a suitable bloody container.

****


	9. Mens rea

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 9 – Mens rea

****

"Jesus bloody Mary Mother of God!"

The words came in a strange whirring sound, since the man shook himself thoroughly while releasing them.

Then he took another step from the door he'd just closed behind him, and tossed a severed finger on top of a map on the table. Next, he made to wipe his hands to his sash, but was halted, struck with the sight of a bottle of rum on the corner of the table.

"Don't mind if I do." Jack said to the thin air.

Every single drop of brash behaviour was sucked out of the Captain as he grabbed the bottle wearily, shoulders slumped, eyes glazed over with exhaustion.

Jack slumped down to his chair and was about to open the bottle when he saw the finger pointing at him accusingly. Sighing, Jack pulled the cork open with his teeth and leaned forward, his other hand extended under the table.

"You know," Jack addressed the digit with a nod. "For being dead, you're still a great bloody waste of perfectly decent rum," he mumbled as he washed first the one, then the other hand with the rum, and dried them off to his breeches.

He raised the bottle up with a less than enthusiastic wave. "Well. To your health."

All but an inch short of draining the bottle, Jack clanked it to the table and was faced with the cut member again, its powers of pointing directly to Jack's guilt only heightening by the second.

"What?" Jack asked it apathetically. "I did what I had to. You know how he is when he's upset." His arms splayed to prove good intentions lowered slowly, when there was a horrified twist in Jack's stomach, and his face distorted into a sincere apology.

"I guess you don't."

Trying to brighten up, Jack clapped his hands to his knees with determination. "Well, I'll tell you all about Will one day, but now, we need to find you a box. You can't run around like that, it's not decent."

Jack looked around himself, finding nothing to complete his thought with, until he glanced back to the bottle. "That is a wonderful idea, darling, good thinking!" Jack smirked at his own wits and promptly pried the cork open, snatched the finger gingerly, and plopped it into the bottle with a soft *splop.*

"Much more better." Jack watched the finger float in the liquid. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll be taking a moment and…fuck it."

The final string that held Jack's composure snapped abruptly, and Jack hit his head to the table with a thunk. "You would think," came the muffled sound directed to his lap, "that after all this time, it would've become a tad more easier, right?" Jack looked up again, face slack.

At least the finger seemed to be listening.

"Well, let me tell you something. It's not."

Jack heaved a long-suffering sigh and held his eyes closed for a moment, gathering himself laboriously.

"I'd wager," he continued conversationally while bending next to the table and picked up another bottle from a crate, strategically placed within the reach. "You have some idea what I'm talking about…."

Jack plucked the fresh bottle of rum open, clinked it to the one on the table in salute, chugged down a good portion of the liquid, and poured out his sore heart.

****

Captain Will Turner was still.

Hands stoically on the railing, gazing down the side of the Black Pearl with unseeing, dry eyes, he fought to keep his eyes open in fear of what he might see…or what he might not.

The seven years as the Captain of the Flying Dutchman stood in sharp relief to his memories, and no matter how hard, how desperately he'd tried to cling onto them, they faded.

Will's eyes sought for an anchorage, and found it wrapped around his wrist.

The threadbare piece of cloth from Elizabeth's dress had served as a reminder, her sweet scent all too soon overcome with the damp air of the sea, still, the moment lived with it. Right until Will had lost that, too, in the battle against the eternal hands of time.

He felt a tug of shame somewhere around where his heart used to be at the recollection of jumping at the opportunity to see Elizabeth again.

It was true what AnaMaria had said about making his peace, yet, the excitement had nearly covered the grief.

The things he would do, only to remember. Anything.

"_Elizabeth." _There was no one to answer the whispered call.

Will drew a long, shuddering breath through his nose and let his eyes flutter closed. He brushed his hand over the cloth on his wrist, the touch bringing back the faintest sense of what had once been, his mouth slightly open to beckon the memory of a memory of her scent forth…

And there she was - the gust of wind her whisper on his cheek, the warmth of the sun her gentle touch, the light's play on the sea's ripple the loving sparkle of her eyes, the salt on his lips her tender kiss… Fractions, fleeting, evasive parts of Will's mind fighting to form a clear picture, fluttering in and out of his reach. Will smiled forlornly at the disjointed image, head tilted to see better, to feel her fingertips ghost over his skin, to remember, treasure, keep, save --

"_You can't leave, Will. You can't find me."_

Will's eyes flung wide open as he whirled around in panic and shivered violently. "Elizabeth?"

There was no one there, only the covered corpse inhabited the lifeless deck. Still, sure as eggs, it had been Elizabeth's sorrowful voice.

The lingering phantasm in Will's mind crashed to the ground as the revelation clamped around his throat; She was right.

Will rushed to the Great Cabin, and stormed in without knocking.

Taking in the scene of Jack snapping his head up from the table, dumbfound and startled as if awoken from a dream, along with the sight of what had to be a digit floating in a bottle, Will briskly dismissed it all and uttered, agitated: "I can't leave. I can't go on shore."

Jack was up to his feet in an instant, staggering, his chair scraping the floor in the haste.

"What ye mean you can't leave, you've the blessings of the sea monster herself! Of course you can!"

One look at the bottle on the table, and Jack pushed himself past Will and out of the cabin.

"No. Who would guide the dead? The Dutchman needs a captain." Will explained, shaking his head helplessly while keeping up with Jack.

Halting in mid step, Jack turned to Will slowly.

The moment ticked away as Jack measured Will incredulously, and spoke quietly. "Never thought of that." Shifting on his feet, eyes raking the deck, Jack frowned deeply. "You think the sea witch could help with that?"

"I don't know."

"Thought not. You bloody deities are just like that, never quite thinking things through before taking action."

"I'm not-"

"And furthermore," Jack continued in the same breath. "The complete lack of consideration towards anything but themselves is appalling! The nerve, to show up unannounced, and just 'poof'," Jack gestured lividly along with his preach. "Suddenly they're nowhere to be found again, leaving people to their own devices. Bloody typical."

"And why does that sound so familiar?" A quizzical look appeared in Jack's eyes.

"Jack." Will attempted to stop the flow of words.

At Will's raised eyebrows and the slight bow of the head towards somewhere behind him, Jack rolled his eyes. "She's right behind me, isn't she?"

When Will nodded in confirmation, with what Jack could swear was a wicked little smile, Jack slouched around sheepishly, drawing on a smiley, happy face that couldn't have fooled anyone.

"Calypso. What a pleasant surprise."

****


	10. Tolerabiles ineptiae

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 10 – Tolerabiles ineptiae

****

"Calypso. What a pleasant surprise. How nice of you to drop in...again. Staying long?"

The smile on Jack's face faded as the sea goddess sharply pointed her finger at him, her words a statement more than a question.

"You will take him place aboard the _Dutchman_?"

"No!!"

The exclamation came in unison from Will and AnaMaria, as they both balked at the idea.

"Oi!" Jack started, affronted, but was quieted by Calypso's sharp hiss.

Calypso turned her head and eyed the other woman curiously. Reaching a hand towards Ana, the sea goddess smiled seductively. "Come here, girl," she beckoned.

Ana folded her arms and glared, standing still. "Who are you calling girl?"

"You dare argue with me?"

Ana shrugged. "I am not afraid of you." She squared her shoulders and looked the goddess in the eye. "You have already taken the one thing I valued most in this world."

Calypso's smile widened, turning warm. "And him part of the crew, on the _Dutchman_."

"Mon Dieu!" Ana slapped Will on his arm in dismay. "You did not tell me Andre was there."

Jack, unable to restrain himself, stepped up and waved a hand at Ana. "There, you see? A perfect candidate for the job!"

"Who?" Will furrowed his brow in confusion. "Ana?"

"No." Jack nodded cheerfully. "Her dearly beloved." He swayed around the deck, bejeweled fingers weaving a tale. "_A man of the sea, a great sailor_." He mimicked, smiling sweetly at the sea goddess before turning back to Will. "Who better to take your place at the helm, aye?"

"Him cannot." Calypso glared at Jack and swept over to where Ana was standing, adding in a softer voice. "Him not but a shade, as are all the crew." She turned to Jack and pointed a finger. "The _Dutchman_ needs a living heart."

"Mister Gibbs!" Jack offered brightly. "He's strong, loyal, and still breathing, last I checked." He sidled up next to Will. Resting an arm on Will's shoulder, Jack tapped him several times. "There. You see? Problem solved."

"Cap'n?" Gibbs turned a worried face to Will and Jack. "Don't think I'm ready to…"

'I'll do it." Ana stepped up, chin out, eyes blazing.

"You?" Jack's eyes widened, head bobbing when he tried to see past Ana, expecting someone else to pop up.

Will nodded. "Ana would make a fine Captain."

"And you do still owe her a ship," Gibbs pointed out helpfully.

"And she has Andre and my father to help her," Will added, his voice telling that it was as good as done. "Unless you are keen on taking the job yourself?"

"Already got a ship, mate." Jack waved a vague hand at the _Pearl, _apparently appalled by the suggestion.

Calypso gathered her skirts, stepping next to Ana she turned to the men and pronounced, "It is settled."

"Now, wait a minute…" Jack held up a hand. "What about the whole heart thing?" He mimed, helpfully, "You know, the chop chop, thump thump in a box routine?"

"Her does not need to give her heart, her heart already part of the crew."

Jack persisted. "And what about Will?"

"The terms remain the same," Calypso said sharply. "If him love be true, then him be free." She gave a chilling smile, her eyes narrowing knowingly. "You will help him find what him seeks, hmmm?"

Will stepped forward and gestured to the forgotten corpse on deck. "What about Elizabeth?"

"Will's right." Jack nodded. "We can't just shove her overboard, what if we find ourselves needing some more bits and pieces?"

Uncertainty passed over Calypso's features before speaking. "She goes with Ana on the _Dutchman_."

Ana put a gentle hand on Will's arm. "I will watch over her."

Calypso smiled wistfully. "Ana has much to learn, but her heart be true."

"I will show her," Will said, accepting the terms. "Introduce her to the crew."

"No." Calypso halted him. "You cannot return." She brushed a finger along Will's cheek. "The _Dutchman_ can only have one Captain."

And with a wet *splock,* she disappeared, taking AnaMaria and the remains of Elizabeth along with her.

****

"So where do we start?" Will stared out at the empty sea in frustration. "Elizabeth could be anywhere."

Jack said nothing, only tapped the wood under his fingers.

"How do we find her?"

Looking at Will from the corner of his eye, Jack grew worried.

"How do we even know it's her?"

Yep. Definitely an alarming pitch had appeared in Will's tone.

"What if it's not her, what if there's been a mistake?"

"Calm down Will-" Jack's words rang on deaf ears.

"Jack! She could be alive! We must find her!"

Watching Will turn from forlorn to frantic in mere seconds, Jack took a look around and found a few crewmen watching the developments with interest.

"Right." Jack grabbed Will's arm determinedly, pulling him away from the railing and turning him around. "Come on, William, lemme show you something." With a firm hand to his back, he pushed Will, still protesting, ahead of him, every step to the Great Cabin a small struggle, all the while Will kept convincing himself that Elizabeth was alive, that the woman's corpse didn't even look like Elizabeth, that God only knew who the poor soul even was!

Jack kicked the door closed and shoved Will against the wall just as Will's lividness turned into wide-eyed panic.

Taking a step back, Jack shook his head apologetically before drawing his hand back. "I'm sorry William." An open-palmed *whack* across Will's face resounded in the cabin right after the whisper died in the air, followed by a bellowed "Stop it!"

Will lift his hand to his cheek, surprised, shocked, shaken, eyes raking over Jack, who apprehensively withdrew to a safe distance.

"I-" Will uttered weakly, cradling his rapidly paling face, swaying on his feet. "Jack, I'm not feeling very well…"

"Will!" Jack shot forward and caught Will from under his arms as his knees buckled and he started to fall.

Lowering the unconscious man to the floor, Jack rushed to the door and barked, "AnaMaria! …_Fuck_." He clenched his eyes shut, hands in tight fists upon the realization of his mistake. "Mister Gibbs! Anyone!" Not waiting for someone to turn up, Jack whirled around and dashed to the table, sweeping it clear of assorted items, barely registering the clink of a bottle with a finger clattering over the boards.

"Cap'n, what happened?" Gibbs stood horrified next to Will's limp form.

"I don't know." Jack said anxiously. "I swear it was only a brush." He motioned Gibbs to grab Will's legs, ignoring the questioning look on his face. "Help me lift him up onto the table."

The men maneuvered the flaccid body onto the surface, and Gibbs stepped aside, giving Jack room to check on Will's condition.

"At least he's breathing," Jack said uncertainly, fingers hovering over Will's face, not having the faintest clue as to what to do next.

A miniscule movement of Will's chest between even breaths suddenly caught Jack's eye.  
His brow lifted under the brim of his hat in disbelief. He hastily pried it out of the way, leaning down and pressing his ear against Will's chest. Hardly daring to breath, Jack listened carefully as the thudding sound confirmed his suspicions. "Impossible…"

The gasp startled Gibbs, who leaned forward with guarded intrigue. "Cap'n?"

Jack snapped his head up, planted his hat back on and turned slowly, swallowing hard.

"He has a heartbeat."

****

After getting a second opinion that it was indeed a case of the now apparently _former_ Ferryman having a pulse, and a steady one at that, Jack lost whatever patience was left lingering inside him.

Storming out the cabin, he stomped to the side where the _Dutchman_ still floated, muttering curses laced with hellfire under his breath.

Jack gathered a lungful of air and leaned back, spreading his arms invitingly. "Come on, you old hag! At least have the decency to explain yerself for once in your bloody existence!" The yell sprung across the smooth surface of the sea, gaining no response for the fury.

The lack of a reply set Jack onto another try.

"This is all your doing, innit? You get off on this, don't you, you rotten, conniving, torturing witch! Well I wish I could say the same for meself!"

Unspeakably frustrated, Jack ripped his hat off his head, waving it around, enraged, and ultimately biting into it with a repressed growl before tearing out another scream; "I've had enough of this!"

He tossed the hat into the sea and promptly deflated, tumbling down from his defiance. Shoulders slumped, subdued , his eyes fluttered shut as he caught his breath. "I've had enough of all of this," he sighed, turning to trod back to the cabin, resigning to his fate.

"Ah!" A small rush of relief struck through him when finding Will leaning to the doorframe, weary, but standing. "You alright there mate?" Inquiring, Jack squeezed Will's arm as if to ascertain he was really there.

"Yes." Will said quietly, then pulled a suffering face, closing his eyes. "It's just…so _loud_."

"The heart?"

Will nodded, then opened his mouth to say something but instead lifted his chin to indicate somewhere behind Jack.

Jack frowned, puzzled, then grimaced. "Again?"

"Yeah." Will straightened his composure, acknowledging Calypso's presence.

Jack rotated on his heels charily as if expecting a blow and was face to face with the goddess.

"You know," he bit through his gritted smile. "We really have to stop meeting like this, people are going to talk."

The lip fell flat on his audience as Calypso only handed Jack a dripping wet tricorn, and sashayed to Will, sparing Jack a mere cold glare.

"It is so that you can walk on land, William. You are not free," she apprised. "De change has been made, de dead follow der Captain," Calypso paused, tilting her head. "_You_ follow you heart." Hand raised to underline her words, her lips broke to an appraising smile.

"You heart," Calypso purred, sweeping her fingers over the collar of Will's shirt. "It is but an illusion, a fleeting joy." She waited for Will to understand, and her lips formed a melancholy curve.

"Good luck, William Turner." Splaying her hand across his chest, covering the jagged scar, she added, "Go. But remember, you must return before de tide turns twice."

Calypso turned her black, piercing eyes to Jack. "Use de time wise."

With an artful smile, and a dismissive bow of her head, she was once again gone.

The group of three men watched as the _Dutchman_ was engulfed by the roiling waves, none of them the wiser than they'd been in the morn.

"Where to, Cap'n?"

"Orders… Sir?"

Jack met two expectant faces looking at him on each side, one nearly terrified, the other nigh on amused, and fished out his compass.

He snapped open the box, pursing his lips into a chagrined pout at the needle, which was wavering to and fro, not settling on any heading. Frowning, he closed it and shrugged. "We got nowhere to go but back to the beginning." He turned to Gibbs to deliver new orders; "Set a course for Dead Man's Cay."

"Aye, Cap'n," Gibbs said sorrowfully, looking as if that were the last place on earth he wished to return. Collecting himself, he squared his shoulders, walked across the deck and began barking orders to the crew. "Let go and haul!"

The ship became a flurry of activity, the lull they'd been set in breaking instantly as the braces sang through their blocks, the course yards creaked and chain sheets rattled, as the crew went to work. "Avast heaving on the royal there! Well the t'gallant! Check the upper tops'ls! Get that main topmast stays'l-sheet over! Belay the main brace! Set up the force braces now, lads!"

Gibbs shrugged at seeing Jack vividly explaining something to his newly swapped First Mate, Will's head inclined in concentration.

"Well, I'm supposin' it could be worse." Gibbs established to himself, scratching his chin. "We _could_ be bein' chased by the Kraken."

****


	11. Memento vivere

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 11 – Memento vivere

****

"We can't just sail the _Black Pearl _into Port Royal." Will pointed towards the infamous ship's black sails. "She's too well known, we'll be slaughtered at sight."

"Will's right, Cap'n," Gibbs agreed. "Besides which, the crew, and that meaning myself as well, are not too keen on making our presence known, in such an obvious fashion, t' the Royal Navy, what with us all havin' a price on our heads." Gibbs gave an apprehensive glance around and lowered his voice. "Not to mention the fact…" He paused and gave Will a sheepish look. "Begging yer pardon Will, but the men are not so eager t' be sailin' with the Captain of the _Dutchman_. Say it's bad luck."

Jack scowled. "Is that so? I trust you have a better idea, Mister Gibbs?"

Gibbs nodded again, eagerly. "I was thinkin' perhaps we could make port at Tortuga. Let thems that want t' leave the _Pearl_ go their own ways."

"And how do you propose we find Elizabeth?" Jack's scowl deepened. "I'm doubtin' seriously she decided to pop into the _Bride_ for a pint."

"Jack's right," Will said. "We don't have much time, and Elizabeth's soul could be anywhere. We have to have some way of finding her."

Gibbs brightened suddenly. "What about Ana's boat, the_ Jolly Mon Too_?"

Jack snapped his fingers. "Excellent suggestion, Mister Gibbs!" He began to pace the deck, enthusiasm replacing his previous dourness. "She's not going to be needing it any time soon. Don't think she'll mind us borrowing it, for a short while."

"What about a crew?" Will asked, stopping Jack in his tracks, not as sure as him about the idea.

"Won't need one," Jack dismissed Will's scepticism with a confident grin and impatient wave of the hand. "She can be crewed by two men." Mind made up, he turned to Gibbs. "Adjust course for Tortuga, Mister Gibbs."

Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief. "Aye, Aye, Cap'n."

"So what will become of the _Pearl_?" Will stepped to the rail, running a gentle hand along her wood. The ship hummed contentedly beneath their feet in response, her bow slicing through the aquamarine waters, careless of any headings as long as there was the sheer joy of the sea.

Jack looked around, a puff of pride in his chest. "She's due for a good cleaning. We'll careen her on Tortuga. Won't be anyone running off with her that way." Jack grinned and thumped Will on the back. "Besides, it'll do you good. No better way to get your land legs, in my book, than a lusty visit to the island of Tortuga."

****

"We've at least three days, with a following wind, before we reach Tortuga. He has to sleep _somewhere_."

Jack scowled at his defiant crew who stood, to a man, dead set against bunking with the furloughed Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_.

"Ain't no where in the Articles we signed, sayin' we'd be crewing with the Captain of the Damned," said the leader of the surly bunch, turning a sour face towards Will.

"The Death Ship!" Another crewman hastily crossed himself, while two others spat and made hand gestures to ward off the Evil Eye.

Seeing no easy way to reason with his recalcitrant crew, Jack threw up his hands in disgust before returning with Will above deck. The men who were on dogwatch warily kept their distance while going about their duties.

"A bunch of perfidious superstitious blaggards, the lot of 'em," Jack muttered, glaring at them.

"I can't say that I blame them," Will said. "I can sleep on the deck." Will glanced around and pointed. "There, beneath the forecastle."

"That's ridiculous." Jack waved off Will's suggestion. "I have first watch. You can sleep in my cabin."

Will shrugged off the idea. "I'll take first watch. I rarely sleep anyways."

"We'll both take watch," Jack growled, stalking off to the helm, as the watch bell tolled the change.

Will made his way to the forecastle, to stand as lookout. It was just as well, he was not in the mood for company…or sleep.

****

The evening passed without incident up to seven bells, when the light breeze that had been blowing astern during the first part of the night died away, leaving a dead calm in its wake.

The crew, nervous already, were practically jumping out of their skins. Not a breath of air was stirring, as if a heavy black cloud had shrouded the entire sky. The sails hung heavy and motionless from the yards; the perfect stillness, and the darkness, truly alarming. Silence descended over the ship and every one stood as though waiting for something to happen.

A distant flash of thunder warned of an approaching storm. Jack gave orders for the studding sails to be taken in and sent two aloft to clew up the main top-gallant sail. All hands were called on deck to ready the ship in the face of the impending storm.

A sudden cry was heard from those aloft, followed by several others as the crew pointed in unison to the main mast. The topsail yards had been deserted, the sails loose, and beating in the inconstant wind; the men sent aloft having abandoned their task.

The reason for this was readily apparent. There, upon the main top-gallant-mast-head, sat a ball of light, After a few minutes it disappeared, only to show itself again on the fore top-gallant yard; and after playing about for some time, disappeared again, before appearing once more upon the flying-jib-boom-end.

"It's the fires of St. Elmo!" one of the men called out, hastily crossing himself.

Several others fell to their knees and covered their faces, for it was said that if the light shone on one's face, they'd best be making peace with their Maker, for their days were numbered.

"We're doomed!" Cries went up as the men cowered on deck, fearful of what was to come.

One of the crew, a bald-headed, burly sailor who went by the curious name of Curly, pointed an accusing finger at Will.

"It's all his doing," he said, his voice both accusing and fearful. "Everyone knows the fires are the souls of drowned sailors." He looked around in dread. "Even now, they might be trying to climb aboard, looking for a soul to drag back to the depths."

As if on cue, lightening lit the sky and torrential rain began to pour along with the resounding crash of thunder.

"He'll have us all for his crew!"

"He brought the storm upon us," another crewman pointed out, defensively.

"He'll curse the lot of us," called another, from near the rail "He's another Jonah, I tell ye!"

"Better we throw him overboard than all perish!" came a shout from among the others.

"Enough!" Jack bellowed, making his way across the rain lashed deck, his wrath more fierce than the storm swirling around him. "The next word out of one of you mutinous louts and it'll be you we'll be tossin' to the sharks."

The crew returned to their duties, keeping a wary eye on both Captains, as the storm abated as suddenly as it had begun., By the time the watch bell rang, the seas were once more calm, the star studded skies belaying the presence of the passing storm.

****

Jack wearily removed his sodden coat, throwing it in a heap onto the floor of the cabin, followed swiftly by baldric and hat. Struggling to remove his rain soaked boots he paused in mid-hop to peer at his new cabin mate where he stood halfway down the stairs.

"Well? You just going to stand there and watch me undress?" Jack grunted as he managed to pull one boot off, revealing a wayward toe peeping through a worn, wet sock. He wiggled the toe with a contemplative look before peeling the wet sock away. Turning to address the other boot, he continued casually, "You might be immortal, but you could still catch your death standing around in them wet clothes."

"Perhaps I ought to…" Will's sounded bone-tired, his countenance both drooping and dripping.

"Nonsense!" Jack waved away his suggestion. "You need someplace to sleep as far away that mutinous bunch of miscreants as possible." He tugged the remaining boot off and held it up triumphantly. "We've three days t' go, if the winds stay fair. Best make the best of it, eh?"

Jack sank down into his chair and pulled a bottle of rum towards him, taking a retiring sip before choking and sputtering, then returning the bottle to the table with a thunk. Wiping his mouth he stared at the languidly bobbing bone in the bottle. Sticking his tongue out with a shudder and a grimace, he grabbed the other bottle sitting there, carefully eyeing its contents before chugging several mouthfuls.

"Do something with your wife, would you?" Jack said, scanning over Will while waving a hand towards the other bottle.

"Jack…" Will's voice held a sharp edge, but Jack's admonishment managed to propel him the rest of the way down the stairs and into the room.

"Not that I mind sharing me cabin with the two of you…" Jack began but stopped when he saw the distraught look on Will's face. Clearing his throat, he continued in a softer voice. "Sorry, mate. Been a long fucking day." He held out the bottle in his hand to Will with an encouraging gesture. "Here, it'll warm you. Best medicine in times like these if you ask me."

Will slumped on the chair opposite him and took the bottle. Swirling its contents he said in a silent, mournful voice, "Been a long fucking life." He drank deeply then, without further comment.

Jack quietly, so as not to disturb Will's thoughts, took another bottle out of the crate on the floor, and waited to see what would happen next.

Minutes passed and Will didn't speak, just continued to steadily drink while staring at the remains of Elizabeth floating serenely in the miniature sea of rum.

"Hmm." Jack huffed almost amusedly, seeking Will's gaze and lifting his bottle for a toast; "For the many fucking long years to come."

Will leaned forward, lifting his eyes from his wife's pointer finger.

The clink of the bottles, tinged as if in agreement, was lost in the vague, last rumble of the retreating storm.

****


	12. Viam fatum nobis ostendit vitae

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 12 - Viam fatum nobis ostendit vitae

****

Jack studied the figure across the table from him with growing concern. Will had succumbed to the stress of the day, ending up sleeping, head resting over his arm on the table, hand still cradling the bottle of rum he'd consumed with an impressive pace. His steady breathing belayed any concerns of death, though Jack wasn't entirely sure whether Will was still immortal or not. One could never tell with Calypso, cunning water witch that she was. It would be just like her to complicate matters by returning Will to the ranks of the mortals along with the heartbeat.

And if that were the case, then it was quite possible Will COULD catch his death, sitting in those wet clothes. Suddenly alarmed, terrified of the thought, Jack stumbled to his feet, pausing to steady himself against the table. He had matched drink for drink with Will, and while not passed out, was listing seriously to port as he started to round the table.

"Come along, William. Best be puttin' you t' bed," Jack slurred, placing an arm under each of Will's and heaving the inert body upward. Swaying under Will's weight, Jack shook his head to clear it, regretting such foolishness immediately as a wave of nausea threatened to deck him.

Taking a deep, purging breath and holding it, Jack concentrated on the man in his arms, continuing his chatter to stay focused. "And best be gettin' you out of these wet clothes as well."

Jack half dragged, half carried Will across the cabin to the bunk, propping him gently against the bulkhead. Will's head lolled to one side, with an indiscernible mumble followed by a loud, decidedly intoxicated snore. With a small grin, Jack gave the sleeping man's shoulder an affectionate pat before turning to the important matter of removing his wet shirt. Straddling Will's knees, Jack leaned him against his own chest while pulling the shirt up by the hem. Managing to tug the cloth over Will's head, Jack let the unconscious man slump against him while he pulled at the sleeves. During the manoeuvres, Will did not awaken but continued to snore softly into Jack's chest.

Dropping the shirt, Jack couldn't help his hovering hands as they gently traced the angry white scars crisscrossing Will's back. Immortality had not removed the ravages of life, it appeared. Catching himself right before he clutched Will against him, and after only briefly burying his nose into Will's hair, Jack took his mind back under control. With a sigh bordering on groan, he eased Will back onto the bunk, and set about tackling the wet boots. It took several fumbling tries before Jack managed to wrestle the boots off, the second one sending him sprawling onto the floor of the cabin.

"Bugger," Jack muttered, cradling his head which had contacted the leg of the table with a thunk. Hauling himself to his knees and glancing up, Jack could just make out the bobbing finger in the rum bottle. Rubbing his eyes in frustration and disbelief, as for a moment, he'd imagined the finger had turned and was pointing accusingly at him, Jack got to his feet. "Would you please shut it?" he growled in the direction of the digit, before swaggering back to the task at hand.

Jack peeled Will's wet socks off steadfastly and started to remove the breeches, his movements slowing down, then stopping with his fingers on the fastenings. With a grimace he snatched his hands away as if burned, closing them in a tight fist and he thought it best to leave the breeches on. Reasoning that they weren't so wet after all, that it was highly unlikely that they'd be the cause of Will's premature departure, Jack eased Will back further onto the bunk and began to cover him securely with a blanket… then halted, frozen in mid-move, tilting his head when his gaze caught one last scar - the jagged rend where Will's heart had been removed.

Slowly, carefully, eyes wide and his lower lip sucked into his mouth, Jack let go of the blanket and sat on the side of the bunk. He flexed his fist open and closed, hesitating, then reached out to touch the prominent reminder of what, and who, Will had become.

Jack didn't know how much time had passed, or how long he'd been holding his breath, lost in outlining and crossing the scar, familiarizing with it. Finally, he gave up to one more urge and pressed his hand over Will's chest. The steady thumping beneath his touch was both reassuring and disconcerting.

Startled by Will talking in his sleep, Jack found the whole experience all too sobering for his liking. Clambering to his feet he decided to remedy the situation post haste and headed back towards the table.

"Leave it to that fishwife t' complicate matters," Jack muttered irritably, slumping once again in his chair and swigging more rum. "Let alone you," he added, pointing his own accusing finger at the one in the bottle. "Couldn't be a good little wife and stay somewhere safe, could you?"

Jack paused and answered his own question. "Of course you couldn't. That was what Will loved so much about you, weren't it? Your free spirit. Yet look where it's gotten you. Him. All of us."

Jack slithered further down in his chair, watching the steady rise and fall of the sleeping man's chest, mercifully able to sleep. Much unlike Jack, whose mind was swirling with thoughts best left alone. It would take copious amounts of rum to silence the voices in _his_ head.

Turning to look at the severed finger buoying in the liquid in a manner Jack swore was smugly mocking him, Jack downed another long dram and resignedly found the bright side of things at least for one of them; "You're the lucky one, you know that? At least you get t' be drenched in all that rum."

****

Will woke to morning sunlight streaming through the window. His mind clouded from the rum he'd consumed the night before, it took him several minutes to recognize exactly where he was. He turned his head, only to be met with an intense throbbing, which caused him to close his eyes, warding off the bright light of the room. Peering through half closed lids, Will could just make out the slumped figure of Jack, cheek pressed to the table, where'd he apparently slept the night. The bottle with Elizabeth's remains was nowhere to be seen.

Will groaned miserably as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck in the false hope it would stop the nauseating pulsing in his temples. He sat on the side of the bunk, clutching the edge and waited for the room to quit spinning. _How much rum had he drank?_

He remembered Jack being unusually quiet, leaving Will to do the talking once he was drunk enough to speak. He remembered the anger and frustration he'd felt…and the helplessness. Face to face with the mortal remains of his wife, sitting there with the man Will had once again succeeded to drag into something he should by all rights be able to do himself, he'd been trying to blot out the guilt he felt at being still alive. He remembered trying to find someone, anyone to blame when the sheer enormity of the situation struck home with devastating clarity.

It hadn't helped much, any of it. No matter how many times he found his thoughts closing the circle, always concluding it was all his fault, Elizabeth was still gone.

Feeling as if he were being watched, Will raised his eyes to meet Jack's solemn brown ones staring at him soundly. Seeing Jack's growing concern, before he could speak, Will blurted out, "Don't."

"Don't what?" Jack asked him, sitting up and twisting his head back and forth to loosen the kink in his neck.

"I don't want your sympathy, Jack. I don't need your pity. It's my fault. All of this."

"Bollocks." Jack made a face, annulling the gravity of Will's words and gave him a worried look. "How, precisely, is it your fault? Answer me that, Will. Did you send Elizabeth out on a fool's mission? Huh? Did you perhaps order her to be sent to the gallows?" He wiped a weary hand across his face, smoothing his moustache while chasing another idea. "Or maybe you're referring to the heart? Would say that if anyone was t' blame for that one, t' would be me."

"You?" Will was perplexed by the sudden turn of the tide, feeling a twinge of worry of his own at Jack's carefree, evert tone.

Without a warning, Jack slammed his fist to the table, then crunched his eyes shut tightly in enclosed agony for a moment before spewing out the gist of all his frustrations.

"Bloody hell, Will! Can't you see?" He pounced up, taking a step closer to Will, and stopped like having another, a better thought. "I brought this on all of us," Jack continued, tapping a finger to his chest. "I fuckin' couldn't wait t' gloat, t' rub it in." Jack shook his head. "I never imagined Jones would…"

As quickly as it had started, the two men sunk into silence, both wracked by wretched guilt and remorse. Face solemn, Jack scooted over and sat next to Will, offering the world the rare, sad sight of the two immortals deflated and defeated… Until Will broke the staleness.

"Destiny," he said, louder than seemed appropriate, then continued in a softer voice. "That's what she called it, Jack. Destiny. Perhaps that included all of us. You. Me. Elizabeth."

Jack looked at Will blankly for a second before huffing, mitigating the thought he hadn't quite yet accepted. "So what now Will? This is where we've arrived at, what's to be next? What does your precious Destiny have in store for us?" Closing his eyes briefly, Jack tried to calm himself, noticing his temper rising again, which would put him in the risk of uttering words that oughtn't be said out loud.

Upon opening his eyes again, Jack saw Will looking at his own hands, sweeping a finger along the faint, pale line on his palm in deep thought. The set of his jaw told Jack Will had reached a decision, and he settled with waiting.

His gaze surprisingly soft, Will turned and shared it with Jack; "We have to find Elizabeth. After that..." He shrugged. "...Perhaps we should find out."

"Perhaps," Jack said quietly, choking slightly around the word as Will's look held him still and played his heartstrings. Jack averted his eyes from Will's and cleared his throat.

"Right." He stood with a pat to his knees and a determined look, and announced, "I believe a bit more speed can be coaxed from the _Pearl_." He pulled his coat on hurriedly and ducked under the table, emerging with hat. Donning it, he added, "Best you stay below for now. The crew may be a bunch of sorry, superstitious miscreants, but they're all good sailors." He chuckled. "Wouldn't want t' have t' keelhaul the lot of 'em."

Will gave Jack a wry smile in response, and nodded. Looking around with a puzzled expression he stopped Jack at the door with his question. "Where's Elizabeth?"

"Her nibs? Oh…" Jack pointed to where he'd picked up his hat. "Under the table. Couldn't stand her starin' at me any longer."

With a whirl of coat tails he left the cabin, leaving Will alone with his dearly beloved.

****

They reached Tortuga on a moonless night, slipping past the mouth of the harbor with doused lamps and dropped anchor further out in the bay, away from prying eyes. After leaving instructions with the anchor watch, Jack had sent the rest of the crew ashore, paying them their shares and informing them they'd be needing to find another berth.

Jack and Will stood silently at the rail, waiting for Gibbs to return with the boat. The lights of the town flickered in the dark night, the sound of random gunfire and shrill laughter wafted across the black water, bring back memories of another night, another time.

"Seems a lifetime ago," Will said quietly.

"And, if I remember correctly," Jack added with a grim smile, "we were in the same boat, figuratively speaking."

"Searching for Elizabeth," Will said, careful to look right in front of him and nowhere else, mentally checking one more time that he packed the bottle of Elizabeth in his satchel for certain.

"Aye."

A thump against the hull announced the return of the boat. The two men climbed down the sea ladder, and settled in, Jack running a loving hand alongside the black ship's hull. "At least the _Pearl_ is back, safe and sound," he murmured.

They traveled the stretch of water to the dock without speaking, each lost in their own thoughts and fears. They tied up at the dock and after a quick glance around, headed towards the town. They hadn't gone far before a familiar voice rang out.

"Jack Sparrow!" The blonde wench made her way through the crowded Tortugan street, arms wide in delight.

Her companion, the buxom redhead, followed. "We haven't seen you in a month!"

The two women clutched Jack's arms, practically dragging him along.

"You promised to stay the night the next time you were in town." Giselle wriggled closer to Jack and ran a practiced hand along his sleeve.

"We've our own place now, above the dress shop." Scarlett added, snuggling up on the other side.

Bending a finger under the hem of Jack's sleeve, Giselle leaned to Jack's ear, whispering loudly; "I hope you're _feeling_ better." She drew back and batted her lashes seductively, not leaving much room for interpretation.

"That's very kind of you," Jack smiled as he gingerly removed their hands from his sleeves, slipping out of their grasp. "Most kind. But I'm afraid _we_ are in a bit of a hurry."

In their eagerness to claim Jack, neither had noticed the silent figure accompanying him. Surprise registered on the two women's faces as Will joined them.

But before they could comment, Gibbs caught up with them. Flustered and out of breath, He nodded briefly towards the girls, then turned to Jack, his words coming out in a rush.

"Cap'n! You better get back to the _Pearl _double quick like!"

"What is it, man? Well? Out with it!"

"She's… she's…" Gibbs for once was rendered speechless.

"Sinking." Will finished the sentence matter-of-factly.

"Whut?!" Jack whirled around in panic and headed back towards the waterfront. "S'impossible!"

Will instantly followed Jack, who, as he soon as he was within shouting distance, began to loudly berate the dripping wet and slightly sheepish anchor watch, standing huddled together on the wharf.

"Don't blame them, Jack. I asked her to." Will landed a calming hand on Jack's arm along with his words, bringing him to a halt.

Jack stood like an absurd salt statue, finger raised and mouth gaping open, only his eyes shifting from left to right in search of even the tiniest bit of sanity, since obviously everyone had suddenly lost theirs.

Trying his best not to swallow his tongue, Jack braved a testing question."You… You _asked_ her to."

"Yes."

"The _Pearl_?"

"Yes."

"The _Black_ Pearl?"

"_Yes._" Will, bless him, obtained the presence of mind not to roll his eyes at Jack.

"Why in God's blazes would you do a bloody thing like that?" Jack shouted, causing more than a few eyes to turn their way. He added, in a lower voice, "I thought we had an accord."

"You want her safe, don't you?" Will asked quietly, looking past Jack. "And we don't want to draw unnecessary attention, _do we_?" He veered his eyes, looking directly into Jack's. "Wouldn't the _Black Pearl_, sitting at anchor out in the harbour or careened on a beach do just that, Jack?" Will gestured towards the streets full of rowdy sailors and townsfolk. "You know better than me that any one of these scoundrels would betray their own mother for a chance at selling that piece of information."

Placing his hand on Jack's arm to placate, Will gave Jack a grim smile and added in a reassuring voice. "When we get through all this, I'll raise her back up for you."

"Is that so?" Jack hissed through clenched teeth. "Well then, it appears that we're in need of a boat, _Captain_ Turner." Brushing off Will's hand, he stomped away into the night without looking back.

****


	13. Et hoc transibit

****

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 13 - Et hoc transibit

****

The crowd at the _Faithful Bride_ was as boisterous as ever, the bar three deep with drunken sailors, the tables equally occupied. Several musicians were playing a rousing jig in one corner, adding to the overall bedlam in the room. Jack elbowed his way towards the rear of the tavern, his path hampered by two men locked in a drunken brawl. Stepping nimbly over the tumbling pair, he managed to finally reach a quieter corner and slouched miserably onto an empty bench.

The _Pearl_ was gone. Sunk. Crushing under the weight of tons after tons of water, all because, for once in his life, Jack decided to do something just out of the goodness of his heart.

"Some way to return a favor," Jack groused to himself. "Try to help the bloody fool and what do I get for me efforts? A mutinous crew and a sunken ship."

"Jack!" The voice of his quartermaster carried over the crowd, followed by Gibbs himself, a bottle of rum and two tankards in hand. "Thought I might find you here."

"Bloody buggering blaggard sunk me ship," Jack moaned. "Why? Tell me, why I shouldn't just walk away and leave him and his precious fish bait to figure things out themselves?"

Gibbs slid onto the bench and handed Jack a mug. "Lad was just doin' you a favor, Jack." Taking a long swallow, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Don't be too hard on 'im. Man's just lost his wife."

"_Favor_? He sank me bloody ship!" Jack shouted, causing those nearby to glance over. Lowering his voice he added, "What sort of fuckin' backward idea of a favor is that?"

"One that might get us out of Tortuga without trouble," Will said quietly.

Jack looked up to find Will standing there with folded arms and a small smile on his face.

"Ah, speak of the Devil," Jack leered, narrowing his eyes. "And 's not funny by the way," he muttered, looking away ostentatiously and taking a swallow of rum.

"I don't see anyone laughing, Jack." Will nodded towards a serving girl who set another mug and a bottle on the table. He sat opposite to Jack and added, "But time is of the essence, and this way you don't have to worry about the _Pearl_."

"No, because you bloody sunk her!" Jack snapped, again drawing attention from the crowd.

"Jack, I'll raise her up again, once we find Elizabeth." Will sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Have you found out where Ana keeps her boat?"

"On top of the water, I would imagine," Jack bared a gold-rimmed grimace of a smile. "Like any normal person."

"We'll ask around the docks then," Will said, sipping from his mug and ignoring Jack's wolf-like appearance. "I don't suppose there are many women who have their own boats in this town."

"You do that, William." Jack said, wriggling himself into a more comfortable position. "Let me know what you find out."

Will shook his head. "No. _We__'ll_ do this, Jack."

Jack leaned back, crossed his feet on the table with a sardonic smile plastered over his face, and raised his cup in a toast. "Here's to you, Will Turner. Give me regards to the missus."

Will studied Jack for a moment, then nodded as if coming to a final conclusion. "Fine. You don't want the _Pearl_ back?" He shrugged indifferently and made to leave. "I see our liaison has come to an end. Good evening, gentlemen." And with that he turned on his heel and strode out of the tavern without another look back.

Unable to do more than stare after the man when the cold hand of ominousness grabbed him by the balls, Jack mouthed Will's name weakly, then tried again louder. "Will! …Bloody hell! Will! Wait!"

Jack blinked and sat up, his feet crashing to the floor. Hastily donning his hat, he tossed a few coins on the table and scrambled after Will. Jack recognized that look on Will's face. Not good. Not good at all.

Will was leaning against a stack of crates when Jack caught up with him on the dock. Jack skittered to a stop and raised a finger, his mouth clearly still having difficulties working, since there weren't any words coming out, making Jack look much like a fish out of water. Chuckling, Will pushed himself upright and nodded his head towards a dinghy tied up to the dock.

"Thought you might want to see for yourself I was telling you the truth."

Jack gaped, eyes wide, at the small vessel bobbing placidly alongside them. Finding his voice finally, he croaked, horrified, "That, Will, is a dinghy."

"Obviously," Will said dryly.

"You've turned me ship into a dinghy?" Jack's expression was one of both dread and disbelief, his hands raising to his mouth in astonishment.

Laughing, Will steered Jack by the elbow towards the boat. "Jack, sometimes I wonder just how much you think I _can_ do." He stepped down into the boat and gestured for Jack to do the same. "I may be immortal, but even I can't do transfiguration."

"Yet," Jack muttered suspiciously under his breath, but joined Will in the boat.

Shoving off, Will rowed them out towards the center of the bay, away from the lights of the shore. After glancing around to get his bearings, he set down the oars and allowed the boat to drift on the outgoing tide.

The night was dark, the moon not risen yet. They bobbed in the solitude of the bay, the lights of the town twinkling in the distance. Finally, after several more minutes had passed, Jack figured he'd been patient enough and broke the silence. Glancing around furtively, he whispered, "What are we doing?"

"Waiting." Will whispered back.

"Waiting."

"Yes."

"For what?" Jack hissed, anxiousness getting the best of him.

Will smiled, the meagre light of their surroundings making his eyes glimmer. "You'll see." He then grew serious, and asked quietly in a solemn voice, "Jack, do you trust me?"

Jack fidgeted, and began to say something, then clammed up. A myriad of emotions passed over his face – hope, fear, frustration, yearning – before he finally mustered one word.

"Aye."

Will smiled again, the lights returning to his gaze, and placed his hand on the water. Doing nothing else, he just nodded slightly towards Jack.

A low gurgling sound erupted from beneath then, becoming louder and louder as from the depths, the masts and yards of the _Black Pearl_ pierced the smooth surface of the bay, followed by a whoosh as the ship resurfaced, spraying water down upon them, her wake heeling the small boat over, practically capsizing them. Then, as if a living creature, the ship shook and trembled, her sheets and sails shaking off the weight of water, showering them once again.

Jack's mouth had dropped open and he now shut it slowly as he ran his hand along the black ship's hull, caressing her wood as he gazed up in awe. "Thought the _Dutchman_ were the only ship that knew that trick," he gasped.

"The _Pearl__'__s_ been raised before, Jack. More than once." There was disappointment in Will's tone. He breathed deep, and sighed resignedly. "I don't understand why you even doubted me."

Tearing his gaze away from the ship, Jack looked Will in the eyes and swallowed down the lump in his throat that had miraculously appeared along with Will's words. He answered in a slightly trembling voice. "I guess I owe you an apology, Will." He nodded his head towards the _Pearl_. "Best be putting her back t' bed, aye?"

Will did nothing more than reflected Jack's stare, and the ship slowly sank once again, leaving behind only an undulating ripple moving outwards towards the shore.

Halfway back to town, the uneasy silence that had fallen between the two was shattered by the cheerful sound of Jack.

"So, William, how _do_ you do that?"

"I'm tellin' you it's him!"

"And I'm tellin' you yer a drunken fool. Ain't no way it's him."

"That were the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, or my name ain't Thomas McNeely."

"And I'm the bloody King of England." The man spat and added, "Legend says he can't set foot on dry land but once every ten years. By my calculations, he's got three more t' go."

Gibbs frowned as he listened to the men at the next table. He recognized several of Jack's crew among them, including the Irishman McNeely.

"You ain't no friggin' king," McNeely said, "But I knows for fact that man is Captain Turner. Had to sail with him didn't I?"

"Since when have you been on the _Dutchman_?" The first man laughed and his companions joined in.

McNeely shook his head. "Weren't the _Dutchman_. We was on the _Black Pearl_."

"First the _Dutchman_, now the _Pearl_?" The others laughed even louder. "Been reading too many books, McNeely. You tellin' us you sailed here on the _Black Pearl_ with the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_? Next thing you know, you'll be saying you're Lord Beckett himself, come t' haunt us."

McNeely stood, hands balled into fists. "I'm tellin' you all it's true. Ask the men here."

"Well, if it is true, there's a pretty price t' be had for the whereabouts of the _Black Pearl_."

"Is there now?" McNeely glanced around at his fellow crewmen. "Well, that puts a whole new twist to the capstan, don't it?" Raising his glass, he smiled slyly and said, "Gents, I propose a toast!"

The men at the next table didn't notice the _Black Pearl__'__s_ quartermaster slip away, busy as they were toasting their hopefully soon to be wealth. Gibbs didn't wait around to see what they'd do next. With a price on his head as well, he decided prudence was the right course to steer. Time to lay low. He hurried down towards the waterfront, hoping he'd be able to find Jack and Will and warn them in time.

"Think he'll come back?" Giselle stared forlornly out the shop window, chin resting on her palms.

Her friend Scarlett set down her sewing and sighed. "No telling. Jack hasn't been himself lately."

"Well, he's been sick," Giselle said, quick to defend. "Must be awful for him, having that, er, _problem_."

Scarlett laughed. "I think there's more to it then he's letting on. He's been acting strange ever since he returned."

Giselle resumed her vigil of the street beyond the dress shop window. She was hoping Jack would have gotten over his "illness" by now, but it appeared he was still pining away. Whoever the lucky girl was, she certainly had Jack by the balls. He hadn't said as much in words, but it was clear from his actions, or to put it plainly, _lack_ of actions.

Rumor was he'd been in love with the pirate King, who'd recently been captured and sent to the gallows in Port Royal. If that were the case, then Jack must be grieving somewhat awful. Giselle smoothed out her skirts and smiled to herself. Jack would be needing a shoulder to cry on, and who better to ease his heartache than her?

****


	14. Diem Perdidi

****

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 14 - Diem Perdidi

****

They made discreet, nonchalant enquires around the docks, careful not to draw too much attention to themselves. From a grizzled old fisherman, whose deeply wrinkled face told of many hours under the hot Caribbean sun, they found out that Ana had recently left her boat, the _Jolly Mon Too_, in the care of her cousin Marcel, and from a young wharf rat, with skinny knees and nimble fingers, they learned that Ana used to share part of her catch with the locals, adopting the stray youngsters that hovered around the docks like a flock of hungry seagulls.

Extracting the young boy's fingers from out of his pocket, Jack held him tightly by the wrist and said in a gravely voice, stern but not _really_ meant to frighten, "I'll let you keep the shillings, along with your hand, if you point out the _Jolly Mon_ to us."

The boy, fist clenched tightly around the meagre change he'd fished from Jack's pocket, narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What you want to know that for? You friends of Ana's?"

"We've sailed together before," Jack nodded, lightening his hold but not letting go. "Damn good sailor she is, I'd trust her with me life."

Relaxing notably, the boy shrugged his narrow shoulders, while testing if Jack's hold would let. "It ain't here."

"Well, that's less than bloody unhelpful…" Jack gripped the boy's wrist tighter again, leaning lower to stare black demand upon him and hissed, "Dammit, boy, where is it then?"

The boy squirmed in Jack's grip. "I don't know! Sometimes they are gone for days." He squirmed harder, breaching a cry, "I thought you were her friends!"

Will stepped in, landing a firm hand to Jack's shoulder as if daring him to argue, and Jack, shooting a glance at Will, let the boy go with a disappointed sigh.

Leaving Jack to bristle in the ineffectiveness of his negotiation skills, Will pulled the kid aside and spoke in a kind, soothing voice, "We're not looking to cause your friends any harm. We have a message from Ana to deliver, that is all." Squatting down so he was eye level with the boy, Will fished in his pocket and held up a half crown between his thumb and index finger. At the boy's widening eyes, Will promised, "This will be yours if you let us know the moment the _Jolly Mon_ returns. Deal?"

Nodding eagerly, forgotten all about Jack's hostility, the boy smiled. "Deal! Where do I find you?"

Raising a brow in question, Will looked up at Jack, who was standing there with a scowl on his face, impatiently tapping his foot on the ground. He started to reply, but was interrupted by Gibbs, who arrived on the dock breathless, face flushed as if he'd run the entire way from the tavern.

"Jack! Will! Thank the immortal gods I found you!"

Jack eyed his quartermaster with a dubious eye, as if expecting more sunken ships or other bad news. He soon found he wasn't entirely wrong.

"There's talk in the _Bride_ about a bounty on all our heads, the _Pearl_ included."

The boy's eyes grew wide. "The _Black Pearl_?" he asked in awe. "You're…you're Captain Jack Sparrow?" The boy was bubbling with excitement. "Ana told me all about you!"

"Did she now?," Jack grumbled, dubious of the sudden, bright smile upon the child's face, but still managing to puff a bit in pride.

The boy nodded his head vigorously. "About the times she sailed with you. Says you're the best Captain she'd ever sailed under."

"Really?" Jack was evidently pleased with that assessment, his hand instinctively finding his sword and straightening up to an almost alarming arch. "She is obviously a woman with an astute mind." He grinned, warming to the miniature version of a person, then asked casually, "What else did she have to say?"

Smiling enthusiastically, probably hoping that the praise delivered would result in another half a crown, the kid announced with a clear voice, "That you are crazy as a loon."

Will could not, for the world, bite back the laugh bursting through his chest while clapping the boy on the back. "Ana is a wise woman, indeed," he chuckled at Jack's instantly crestfallen face. "She wouldn't want any harm to come to the _best_ pirate in the Caribbean, now would she?"

The boy shook his head in all seriousness, not quite sure what was happening.

Will quickly steadied himself, placed a firm hand on the lad's shoulder and said solemnly, "So you won't tell anyone you have seen Captain Sparrow this evening, am I correct?"

The boy placed a finger across his lips. "Not a word. Joachim's lips are sealed!"

"Excellent." Will smiled at the boy and extended a hand. The kid shook it in the manner as if he were the owner of the wharf, his eyes sparkling, when Will confirmed their arrangement, "Then we have an accord?"

"Agreed!" The coins nearly burning a hole to his palm, the boy almost nodded his head off its attachments.

Tousling the lad's hair with a friendly smile, Will got up and turned to Jack and Gibbs, stating the facts for them to deal with "Well, the bounty hunters won't be finding the _Pearl_. But we will need a place to lie low until the _Jolly Mon_ returns. Any suggestions?"

Jack, who had been speechless since Joachim's last comment about his very own person, nodded. Glaring suspectingly at the boy, then turning his gaze to Will, Jack declared with gusto, "I know _just_ the place. The _Painted Lady_."

"A brothel?" Will gasped, giving Jack an incredulous look.

"No, a dress shop." Jack chirped, grinning innocently enough. "Run by two of my favourite _former_ ladies of the night. They'll be thrilled to see us."

Gibbs nodded eagerly. "No one will think t' look there."

Will slowly raised a skeptical brow, glancing a look between Gibbs and Jack, and upon finding them both being nothing short of sincere, he nodded. "Then it is agreed. We will wait there." Leaning down to meet Joachim's eyes, he put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It is imperative no one knows you have seen us here…_Savvy_?" At the boy's solemn nod, Will added, "Ana is a good woman. None of us would want to disappoint her, would they?"

The lad shook his head determinately, then eyed Will warily. "Is she coming back?" Joachim's eyes were worried. "She's been gone an awful long time."

Jack stepped forward and briskly clapped the boy on the back, chiming cheerfully, "She's a little busy at the moment, but I am sure she'll be back at the first opportune moment."

They quickly left the boy standing on the docks, a handsome bounty hovering over their heads while Joachim fingered the coins in his pocket, a joyful smile alighting his dirty face.

****

Pierre was bustling around his dress shop, _The Painted Lady_, straightening a display here, fussing over a manikin there. Whistling a cheery tune, lost in his own world, he was startled by a sudden knock on the door.

_Mon Dieu!_ Could they not see the sign in the window? He huffed over to the door and said in a loud voice, "_L__a boutique_, it is closed." Another persistent knock, along with a rattle of the door knob, gave him cause for alarm. Pierre grabbed the poker from the hearth and stood behind the door. Just let one of those ruffians from the town try and break into _his_ shop!

"Oi! Pierre!"

A familiar voice on the other side of the door caused him to fling open the door with enthusiasm. "_Capitaine_ Sparrow! What a stupendous surprise!"

Jack eyed the poker dubiously as he brushed quickly past the diminutive Frenchman, followed closely by Will and Gibbs. "You ought to be more careful, Pierre. You could poke an eye out with that thing."

Pierre returned the tool to the hearth and laughed. "One can never be too careful in this town." He returned, rubbing his hands in glee. "What service can I do for you, _mon Capitaine_?" He hurried over to a display of notions and picked up a handful of ribbons. "A pretty treat for your lady, perhaps? Or…" he smiled slyly, as he tossed the ribbons aside and picked up a white silk cravat. "Perhaps it is not an _amie_ but _ami_ you wish to impress, no?"

Jack sighed in exasperation. "Neither. We are looking for a place to stay for a night or two."

Pierre sniffed. "What do I look like, an inn keeper? Are they all full?"

"We need somewhere to stay that is _discrete_," Jack said, fluttering his fingers at the feminine décor. "Someplace not obvious, if you get me drift."

"Ah! _Le_ intrigue!" Pierre smiled. "You are hiding from someone, perhaps? A jealous husband? Wife? Both?"

Will stepped forward and held out his hand. "I do not believe we have met. I am Will Turner, and you are…?"

"Pierre Bouspeut!" The small Frenchman stood tall and shook Will's hand, with a click of his heels. "You are a friend of _Capitaine_ Sparrow?"

Will studied Jack, who was busy fingering something on one of the display tables and nodded. "Yes, we are friends. We seem to be in need of a place to lie low for a short while. We are willing to pay," Will added, fishing in his pocket for some coins.

"Pah!" Pierre waved the offered coins away. "Your money is not good here. A friend of Jack's, is a friend of Pierre's, _oui_?" He pointed towards a staircase at the back of the shop. "We have several rooms above the shop, I am sure the ladies will not mind the _dérangement_," he added with a wink. At Will's nonplussed look, he hastily added, "Or, if you prefer, there is a small room in the attic which you may use."

"That would be perfect," Will said hastily, then arranged his tone into a more gentlemanly one. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to retire. It has been a long day."

Pierre smiled. "Most certainly. I will show you the way." He waved an airy hand around the room. "I insist you make yourself at home. I have a cellar full of the finest wine, and of course some bottles of the rum our dear captain is so fond of."

"Coming, Jack?" Will asked, shouldering his satchel as he followed the shop keeper.

Jack snatched his head up, a guilty expression on his face as he quickly stuffed something in his pocket while fluttering a hand at Will impatiently. "Go on ahead, I know the way. I just need to have a word with Gibbs here."

"Mister Gibbs, he is welcome to stay too, no?" Pierre said cheerfully.

Gibbs shuffled his feet. "Truth be told, this place makes me a bit nervous. I'll just be givin' Sally a visit, shall I?

Jack grimaced and coughed the ghost of sleazy brine off his throat. "I never could see what you saw in that one. And," he added hastily, as Gibbs frowned threateningly, "I am sure I'll never be lucky enough to find out,"

"Sally's got a good heart," Gibbs said proudly. "Not to mention her abundance of, shall we say," He leaned closer to whisper, "_Unmentionables_?"

"She's well… endowed, I give you that," Jack grinned, drawing a figure in the air with his fingers. "Just as well you give her a visit. Not sure when Will and I will be making port again."

Gibbs nodded, damn near clacking his heels together in his exitement. "Aye, Cap'n. Not t' worry. Got me a new lease on life, best be making the most of it," he said with a waggle of brows.

The two men shook hands and Gibbs, after a quick check around, slipped out into the Tortugan night.

"Now, where is that bottle of rum you mentioned?" Jack mused seductively at Pierre, yet ignoring him while heading for the stairs to join Will.

He didn't make it to the first step when a squeal of glee stopped him in his tracks and a blur of gold came bounding down the stairs and tackled him.

"Jack! What a wonderful surprise!"

****

"I think he's a eunuch," Giselle said with a frown, flinging herself onto her friend's bed with a sigh.

Scarlett raised an eyebrow but didn't reply, just continued brushing her coppery tresses. She glanced in the mirror at Giselle, sprawled across the bed in a most unladylike fashion. She smiled, she knew that petulant look.

"A eunuch?" Scarlett returned to studying her own reflection. The years had been kind to her, to both of them, actually. Pierre's shop had given them a new lease on life, a safe haven away from the rough and violent life of a street whore. In fact, they no longer had to resort to such work for their livelihoods, although each had maintained a favorite man or two from their past.

Poor Giselle. For all her affection for Jack Sparrow, he'd returned from the battle with the armada a changed man. There had been rumors of his death, though his flesh and blood presence belayed that. Yet, there was something different about him, as if something were haunting him.

"I've read about them," Giselle said, interrupting Scarlett's thoughts. "In one of those books Jack gave me. They used them to guard the Sultan's harem." She giggled. "Guess that way they wouldn't be tempted by all them women."

Scarlett put down her brush and turned on the stool to face her friend. "So you think, because Jack has not been tempted by you, that he is a eunuch?" She laughed at Giselle's crest fallen face. "It's probably something quite simple. Like another woman."

"The Pirate King," Giselle said, sitting up and snapping her fingers. "I knew it! That's why _he_ is here, Will Turner. She's not dead!"

"Of course she is dead. You saw the broadsheets." Scarlett said, impatiently. "There were dozens of eye witnesses."

Giselle shook her head. "And they also claimed that Josh was dead as well, and you and me both seen him tonight, right as rain."

Scarlett had to agree, Giselle did have a point. And that would explain where Jack had been keeping himself all these years. If he'd taken up with the Pirate King, he certainly would not have needed to visit either of them. From all she'd heard, this Elizabeth was supposed to be a real beauty.

"So why bring her husband along, if that is the case?" Scarlett argued.

Giselle shrugged. "Well, she's missing, ain't she? I overheard them talking about going to find her, to rescue her." Eyes wide with excitement, she added, "She's been kidnapped, held for ransom, I bet you!" She nodded. "That explains it. Jack needs Will Turner's help to find her."

****


	15. Abyssus Abyssum Invocat

Abyssus Abyssum Invocat

---

Sitting on a cot in the upstairs of the_ Painted Lady_, Will could swear Jack was shaken, the way he leaned on the door he'd just burst through, taking long gulps out of the bottle he'd somehow acquired since Will's departure.

With a long sigh, Jack lowered the bottle, and stayed put, staring into the distance, seemingly in deep thought.

"What are we going to do?" Will's patience broke after a minute's nervous silence.

"Huh?" Looked like Jack had forgotten his whereabouts, Will's inquiry startling him so.

"I asked; what are we going to do?"

"Sleep," Jack smiled, dropping himself on the other cot in the room, dangling his bottle over the edge, crossing his booted legs as he laid down, his hat falling over his eyes. "There isn't much we can do without a vessel, now that we've drowned the _Pearl_," he quipped pointedly.

"I mean after we get a boat? Where are we to head?" Will gathered himself cross-legged, leaning forth on his hands, obviously tired, and not only of games.

Jack tipped his hat off his eyes with the bottle, and squinted at Will, "Well, I figured the best place to start would be Port Royal. Pip knows his way around the cemetery, so he'll come in handy. Besides, I haven't had a chance to thank him yet."

"Pip?" Will was dumfound.

"Percy," Jack offered happily, continuing at Will's expectant brow; "Or, Percival, if you like. My cousin. Teague's boy. His only boy. Good man, though a bit on the religious side. You two will get along fine, I'm sure." Jack handed the bottle to Will's direction, who took it eagerly, waiting for Jack to continue.

"He's got marvelous insight about burial rites and rituals of all sorts, so with any luck, we'll get this sorted at the first go. Helped me to get me mom buried properly too."

Will's already risen intrigue kicked up a notch. "What is he, another one of those Vodoun priests mumbling strange incantations? I think I've had enough of them."

"You could say that." Jack shrugged the question away. "You'll see."

"Of course." Will thrust the rum back at Jack, his mood lowering, encrusted with annoyance toward the futility of every which one of their actions thus far. They were practically where they'd started, with Elizabeth still dead, her soul wandering God knows where, and here they lay, useless, drinking rum.

Noticing the change in Will's appearance, Jack found it in himself to explain perhaps a little further. "He's the vicar of the old church of Port Royal, the same I'd imagine you went to. Perhaps you--" Jack started up, studying Will for a moment. "…No, you couldn't have met him. He only was appointed there some eight years ago."

Even more deeply puzzled, if possible, Will straightened himself and tried to relax, mind still searching answers to his unuttered questions. "Your cousin, the only son of the Keeper of the Code, is the vicar of the old church?"

"Aye," Jack grinned. "Funny ol' world, innit?"

---

Will must've had fallen asleep, exhausted that he was, emotionally as well as physically, since he was dreaming of not dreaming of what he was dreaming about.

His unconscious mind traveled to times that could have been, the blurry face of a boy, his son, alight with a beautiful smile as he watched on the shore his father's approach on the _Flying Dutchman_.

The boy's mother, so proud, her hand in their son's, and Will could once again feel the hollow in his chest, weighing heavier than ever before, when the realization hit that he could not feel a thing… Nothing--

"Wake up, William!"

Will shot up in the bed, his head almost clashing with Jack's, who'd leaned to check on the man sobbing in his dreamed agony.

The awkward feel of his heart thumping in his throat, Will greedily snatched the tankard of wine from Jack's hands and drank deep, his only purpose in swallowing down the bile that had risen, the sense of helplessness that still lingered around him.

"You all right Will? How's the thump-thump?"

"Oh, God…It's not there!" Disoriented, Will could only draw a line between his dream and the reality, utterly confusing Jack, who sat down beside Will, wrapping a supporting arm around his shoulders.

"Will, listen to me; Are you fine? You're not going to die, are you?"

"No! No." Pacified by the rum and the physicality of Jack, something real and tangible to experience, the understanding arose that Jack was referring to Will's magical heartbeat and was worried.

"Your concern is heartwarming, Jack."

With a chuckle, Jack clapped Will on the shoulder and stood up again. "For a moment there I thought I'd lost you, or at least you'd lost your mind. Glad to see that is not being the case."

"It was just a dream, Jack, only a bad dream. I'm fine." And yet, Will's hands were still trembling so that the wine threatened to slosh on the floor.

"I had Giselle arrange us something to eat. You look like you could use some of this." Jack reached to the table where a serving of bread and cheese and a pitcher of Pierre's better wine waited to be consumed.

Getting up, Will floundered, unsteady on his feet despite his determination to forget, when the remnants of the dream played in the back of his head, turning the beautiful faces of his beloveds into that of a rotten corpse, the figure of the boy vanishing into thin air.

"You look like you could use some fresh air."

Secretly, Will appreciated Jack's tact; that instead of blurting out the inquisition he so obviously wanted to begin, he only steered Will towards the latch leading to the roof.

----

The two men sat directly under the stars of Tortuga, their feast in between them, albeit the air not being much to raise an appetite, the men ravenous nonetheless.

"Percival," Will started between mouthfuls. "You've never mentioned him. Teague, then, is it?"

"No," Jack tore another piece from the loaf, stuffing his face and mumbling, "Never been a reason to. Birfwoof. Name comes from his mother. Something about his old man being a pirate and a killer and a scoundrel and not at all suitable to be the sire of a reverend."

"Birdwood!" Staring at Jack in astonishment, Will tried to quickly get the pieces together. "But Gibbs was-"

Jack raised a toast, excited, "And what a short notice it was too, never seen a man whip a horse into such a lather for another man's immortal soul."

"You mean to say this is the same man who was at the… hanging?"

"Well I couldn't bloody well be there meself, now could I?"

Fed, calmed, cheeks rosy from the wine and bad dreams afar, Will laid on his side, preparing to listen the tale that was about to fill the proliferous air. "What, exactly, happened?"

"Well," Jack mirrored Will, cradling his tankard. "Let me tell you. What came about was…"

And Will closed his eyes and smiled.

---


	16. Acta Deos Numquam Mortalia Fallunt

Chapter 16 - Acta Deos Numquam Mortalia Fallunt

A/N: This chapter is rated for Mature readers only.

****

It was in the small hours when Jack and Will had finally finished both the wine and the miraculous tale of one Joshamee Gibbs and his narrow escape from death's tight grip, how Jack's cousin had fooled Thanatos with a simple parlor trick; planting a hook, courtesy of Jack, to Gibbs' collar while 'blessing' his path to the other side.

They'd climbed back to their room, and promptly laid down to sleep with little more to say for the night than their good wishes. Sleeping, as in one of them breathing peacefully with his brand new heartbeat, and the other laying awake listening to it, imagining to hear the beat in his ears as he'd done before.

The wine had gotten Jack restless rather than appeased his nerves. There were too many undisclosed issues flying about for his mind to put them all aside, and the form under the sheets on the other cot seemed to bring some of them into sharp relief.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jack tried to banish the memory of a very drunken Will pressing against him heavily, tried to ignore the tingle on his palms as the recollection inescapably delivered the feel of Will under them, fresh anew, and too much to pass up.

Heat began to rise inside Jack, his forehead breaking into a sheen of sweat as he turned to his side, staring into the dimly lit room, letting himself go and allow his thoughts to take him wherever they may.

Kicking his sheets aside, Jack tucked a hand under his pillow and once again measured each inch of Will, charting the handsome face tight in his memory.

The way his hair landed in the crook of his neck, how the shoulder rose evenly with each breath, the dip of the sheet where Will' waist met his hip, along a thigh, all the way onto his bent knee, down the other leg, until Jack found Will's toes peeking under the covers.

His travel back took longer, as he had to pause to close his eyes to calm his breathing from getting too heavy. The higher he got, the harder he was. At the sight of Will's chest right beneath his chin, the temptation grew too much to ignore any longer.

In all quietness, Jack twisted himself to lay half on his back, his gaze keen on the slumbering form as he eased his fingers under the lacing of his breeches, meeting hot, eager skin.

The art of doing this with as little motion as possible was something Jack had mastered at an early age, the grip he got on the base of his cock a familiar feeling, two fingers wrapping around, the quick, miniscule movements indecipherable had someone happened to walk in on him so discreet, and God, so good.

His mouth open to breath soundlessly, Jack focused on Will's lips, mind conjuring up images of him kissing them, gently, rougher, the taste of Will so close he could almost sense it… Jack closed his eyes again, taking a long breath to smell the mixed scents in the room, discerning Will's from the bouquet, slowing his hand, pacing slow, his heart pounding in his chest as if to break free, and the ache around it almost as powerful as the lust coursing in his veins.

Daring longer strokes, Will's lips now released and Jack's exploring the side of his neck, licking the sweat on his skin, drinking in the scent, the relayed weight of the man on Jack again, pressing him over, the responding hardness of Will the indisputable evidence of his reciprocated feelings, God, the sensation of Will's hands all over Jack, needy, wanting, loving…

The swirling fantasy carried Jack into another world. Here, he traveled his way following the maps he'd drawn, kissing the side of the smile curving on Will's face as Jack tangled his fingers into his hair, strong arms holding Will a hair's breadth away from touching, so close, so close, closer…

"Jack."

"Will!"

Too far gone, too close to the brink of relief, too eager to find his pleasure from his own hand, too lively the fantasy, the sudden incentive of a beloved, forbidden voice struck a lightning through Jack, his back arching beyond his control as he spilled his seed onto his hand helplessly, his name being uttered all over again in the echo in his head, Jesus fucking Christ, Will…

Caught.

The waves of Jack's solitary passion still reverberated faintly as he repeatedly swallowed hard, pressing his eyes closed, waiting for the Judgment Day to erupt and take him away.

It didn't come. The Earth didn't open and ravenous, roaring leos jump to his defenseless throat, nor did the Angel of Death say a word.

Maybe that was even worse.

Carefully, bracing himself to meet the accusing eyes, preparing to be overthrown with shame, yet refusing to let go of his dreams, Jack screwed an eye open a fraction.

Jack opened his other eye to confirm that what he was seeing wasn't distorted somehow, thus making him believe that Will was staring at him with gentle eyes twinkling mischievously, Jack could vouch, in the shadows, a smile tugging at his mouth, and good Lord Almighty, giving him a wink, before turning to his other side.

After what Jack figured was quite enough of silence, he cleared his throat to say something, but the words got stuck somewhere along the line. Maybe he didn't have to say anything. He did feel remarkably peaceful, considering…

He brushed his damp hand to the sheets and turned to his side to see Will's back.

"Will, I-"

"I know."

"I mean, I didn't mean to-"

Will sighed, only slightly peeved. "I know. I don't mind. Go to sleep, Jack, should come easier now."

Jack could swear Will was grinning madly. "Right…" Right he was. "Good night, then."

"Night."

Although neither of the men slept a blink for the rest of the night, they rose refreshed, almost changed men, the dead of night the only witness to both their racing thoughts, as well as to their new questions.

Not, by any means, to mention their fond smiles.


	17. Quando omni flunkus, mortati

Ad Infinitum

Chapter 17 – Quando omni flunkus, mortati

****

Dawn's rosy hues were painting the slumbering streets of Tortuga, most of the town still abed after the bacchanalian celebrations of the night before. Joshamee Gibbs, a new spring in his step despite the earliness of the hour, picked his way through the muddy street, stepping over the occasional drunk sleeping off the night's libations. He yawned widely, smiling in remembrance the delightful, albeit sleepless, night he'd spent reacquainting himself with the delicious and amply endowed Sally.

What brought him out so early was news that the _Jolly Mon Too_ had arrived late the night before and was now tied up at the far end of the quay. Gibbs would have preferred to have stayed abed as well, pleasantly pillowed on Sally's bountiful bosom, but had promised he'd see to the provisioning of the small boat for Jack, who wished to set sail on the morning's tide.

Reaching the _Painted Lady_, where Jack and Will were lying low, Gibbs gave a cursory look around at the silent street before knocking softly. To his surprise the door was jerked open almost immediately by an obviously upset Pierre.

"Do not waste your breath, they are gone."

"Gone, you say?" Gibbs blinked several times at the irate Frenchman. "What do you mean, gone?"

"Gone!" Pierre said with a flip of his hand. "As in poof! Vanished! Parti sans un mot!"

Gibbs scratched his somewhat muddled head. "They can't be _gone_ gone," he argued, "they must just be… well, only _sort_ of gone."

Pierre heaved a sigh. "If you do not believe me, Monsieur Gibbous, by all means, see for yourself, s'il vous plait. You will not find Capitaine Sparrow, or his friend. They are, as I have already informed you, gone."

"Josh!" A joyful shout preceded a bundle of golden hair and dressing gown. "Have you heard? Jack is gone!"

"He has heard," Pierre sniffed. "He just chooses to be, how is it you English put it? Obtuse?"

"Now, don't be so hard on Josh, Pierre," Scarlett said, wiping her hands on a towel as she joined the others. "No one was expecting them to just up and leave without a word."

"Before the sun was even up," Giselle added with importance. "I know, otherwise I would have heard them leave when I went to gather the eggs."

A cold chill swept across Gibbs. He wiped a weary hand across his face. If Jack and Will had left so abruptly, it must mean only one thing… the bounty hunters had found them.

"Tell me, did you happen to meet any strange gents around here, maybe asking about Jack or Will?" Gibbs tried not to let the anxiety he felt creep into his voice.

"No, I don't believe so." Scarlett gave him a sharp glance. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Gibbs said evasively. "Well, I best be getting' goin' then, sorry to trouble you so early."

"Oh, do stay!" Giselle begged, slipping a hand through Gibbs' arm. "We were just going to have breakfast." She smiled. "Pierre promised to make one of his famous omelettes."

"I best be getting down to the docks," Gibbs said, extracting his arm from Giselle apologetically. "What with Jack leaving so abrupt like. Can't be too sure."

"Sure of what?" Scarlett frowned, demanding. "Is Jack in some sort of trouble?"

"I bet it has to do with that curse he was talking about," Giselle said.

"Curse?" Gibbs turned a bewildered face to her.

"Yes, you know. The one that sea witch cursed him with."

"And which one would that be?" Gibbs was feeling more muddled by the moment.

"Well, you know Josh," Giselle said, blushing. "The CURSE."

"I thought it were women who got that," Gibbs said, wrinkling his brow. "Don't right remember Jack being cursed. Not like Turner, mind you."

"He's cursed too?" Giselle sat down abruptly, eyes widening in shock. "Why, I never!"

"What is with all this talk of curses?" Pierre came back in the room with a flounce. "I will tell you who is cursed! It is I, Pierre Bouspeut, for having ever met Jack Sparrow!"

"Oh Pierre, you exaggerate," Scarlett said fondly. "You have just as big a soft spot for Jack as we all do."

"This is true," the diminutive Frenchman said resignedly, sinking into a chair. "And it has been my undoing. Mon Dieu! I wake, before the light of dawn, and slave to prepare my guests the simple repast… The freshly baked bread, the omelettes with the wild mushrooms and the goat cheeses…" He sighed. "And what do I find when I go to awaken them? They have gone, poof! Like that." He snapped his fingers and slumped forlornly into the cushions.

"That all sounds mighty tasty to me, Pierre," Gibbs said. "I shan't be long, I'm figurin'. Wouldn't be mindin' a spot of breakfast when I come back. That is, if it's not too much trouble."

Pierre's face lit up and he quickly rose. "No, no trouble at all! When you return, I shall cook for you, mon ami!"

"And you can tell us all about the curse," Giselle added.

****

Gibbs stomach growled as he contemplated the savory meal Pierre was conjuring in his kitchen. Skirting the more populous routes, he made his way through the back alleys to the waterfront, holding out hope to only find that Jack and Will had decided to make an earlier start, and that nothing untoward had happened to them. He had just reached the outer edge of the town when he heard a "_Psst_" coming from a stack of barrels in front of the cooper's shop.

"_Psst!_" The hissing sounded again, followed by a clank. Gibbs pulled out his gun, wrapping the other hand around the hilt of his sword. He flattened himself against the wall of the shop behind him and crept towards the barrels, cocking his gun as he did.

"Who goes there?"

"It's me, Joachim," the nearest barrel whispered. "Captain Sparrow sent me to find you."

"In a barrel?" Gibbs asked, raising his brows.

"No, no! I was to find you and give you a message," the barrel replied. "But then, them men came, from the tavern, asking about the captain. So I hid." A scruffy face popped out of the barrel, followed by a scrawny street waif. "They've gone now."

Gibbs uncocked his gun, but did not put it away. He swept the docks with his eyes, seeing nothing more than several fishing boats making their way out towards the open water. Once the sun was up proper, the docks would be teaming with activity, as the many ships in port offloaded cargo and took on supplies. It must have took the lure of substantial reward to rouse those ruffians at this early hour.

"Did you see where they went?" Gibbs asked the boy, who was fiddling with a cloth bag tied to his belt.

"Went back towards town," Joachim said, handing the bag to Gibbs. "Said some Tom fellow was nothing but a drunken fool, and ought to be keelhauled."

Gibbs chuckled. He wouldn't mind keelhauling that damn fool McNally himself. The wisdom of Turner sinking the _Pearl_ sunk in as well. Wise man he'd become.

"What's this?" he asked the boy, weighing the heavy bag in his hand.

"That's from Captain Turner," Joachim said, puffing up in importance. Wrinkling his brow he added, "Said to tell you he apologized for leaving so abruptly, but that this ought to tide you over, and that after all you been through, you deserved a bit of shore leave," he quoted proudly.

"Did he now?" Gibbs jingled the bag of coin and grinned, visions of voluptuous Sally floating in his sea of memory. "Don't mind if I do, come t' think of it."

Pocketing the bag, Gibbs patted the boy on the shoulder. "Excellent work, my good man!" He smiled down at the beaming boy and asked, "Any message from Captain Sparrow?

Joachim grinned. "He said he'd thank Pip for you when they saw him."

"Pip?" Gibbs watched the receding figure of the boy as he scampered off down the wharf. _Now who in god's blazes was Pip?_

****

The _Jolly Mon Too_ slipped out of the harbor on the morning tide, her nets and lines all set, as every other morning, to try her luck with the sea's bountiful harvest. Marcel Deschamps expertly negotiated his way across the crowded harbor, weaving his way deftly through the forest of ships and sloops moored in the deeper water of the bay.

No one paid much heed to the small fishing shallop, one of the dozens that plied the coastal waters for a living.

The serene calm of the early morn belayed the boisterous rowdiness of a typical Tortugan night. As a pirate port, Tortuga was home to a plethora of sailors of all nationalities a haven for anyone in trouble with the law. French and Dutch traders regularly stopped by, trading for pirate plunder with guns, ammunition, brandy and fancy clothing. The island of Tortuga had become known as the common place of refuge for all sorts of wickedness, a virtual seminary and nothing short of a safe haven for pirates and thieves.

In return, the presence of the pirates, with their ships bristling with cannons, offered the small island protection from the Spaniards, whose presence, across a short stretch of water in Hispaniola, could never be ignored, not even in peacetime. For the local fishing boats, such as the _Jolly Mon Too_, the pirates also provided them with a thriving market for their daily catch.

To Marcel, being locally born and raised, the pirates were a common presence. Even his own cousin, AnaMaria, had sailed on the _Black Pearl_ on several occasions under the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. Notorious and flamboyant, the pirate captain was well known in town. Too well known, apparently…

Marcel glanced nervously over at the bundle of nets in the bow, under which he'd secreted both Sparrow and his companion, the equally infamous William Turner, Captain of the dreaded _Flying Dutchman_. The pair had boarded in the hours before dawn, having given several unscrupulous bounty hunters the slip.

The fact that Ana herself was now bound to the _Dutchman_ did not give Marcel any comfort, though the two months' earnings in gold did help convince him to take a much needed holiday from the grueling life of a fisherman. The plan was to lend the boat to the two captains, who promised to return it… together with his cousin, when their cagey mission was complete.

He trimmed the sails and set a course for Port du Paix, a friendly port where the boat could be provisioned and outfitted without drawing undue attention. Marcel would disembark there, and hopefully reacquaint himself with a local girl he'd taken a fancy to.

In the meantime, it was agreed that Jack and Will would stay out of sight, at least until they'd put the island of Tortuga to their rudder. Marcel fingered the charm he wore around his neck.

A magical, blessed talisman to ward off the Evil Eye. If the perils of the sea, with its unpredictable weather, reefs and sharks weren't bad enough, there was also the constant dread of the appearance of the _Flying Dutchman_, and its crew of undead monsters, harvesting the sea with its own merciless nets.

AnaMaria had sworn that times had changed, the tide turned, that the new captain of the _Dutchman _was a benevolent and compassionate man, that there was no reason to fear death, not at sea at least. She also wore the talisman, but for her it had always been to ward off a different type of evil. According to Ana, the worse evil sailing the seas was disguised as honest traders.

Marcel did not disagree, but as with most islanders, even with all of Ana's convincing, he still did not fancy meeting the _Dutchman_ without the spirits' protection. He glanced once again at the pile of nets, and wondered how this kind man with the gentle eyes could truly be the Captain of the dreaded Death ship.

On the other hand, the other captain, Jack Sparrow, was just as Ana had always described him, if not stranger. Whatever their mission was, Marcel would be more than happy to stay firmly on shore for its duration.

****

"Ouch! That's my eye!"

"Well, get your eye out of me elbow!"

"Jack! If you would quit squirming, we might be able to get through this with all our parts intact and unpoked."

"I am not the one squirming, mister Bony Knees. Just trying t' save me jewels."

"And I'm trying to save our souls. Now hold still and be quiet."

The two men fell silent, glaring eye to eye under the cramped cover of the nets. Suddenly, Will gave Jack a panicked look, hissing, "_Jack!_ Where's Elizabeth?"

"How should I know," Jack groused, rubbing his ribs where Will had elbowed him. "It's not my turn to keep track of your bony, er bonny lass."

"She was just here," Will began to fumble around, searching for the bottle.

"Oh, yes, that's it, Will. Just a little lower, there, ahh," Jack quipped.

"Stuff it, Jack."

"Gladly."

Will groaned.

"Jack. If we are going to succeed at this mission, we have to work together."

"Don't you think I know that?"

The two men fell silent again.

"Look, Jack. It's not that I don't appreciate all you've done. It's just…"

"Will," Jack blocked any further words coming out of Will's mouth by slapping a hand over it. "It's fine. I know I've been an arse, but I have me reasons. Now stow it, soul saver. We might be discovered."

As if in an afterthought, Jack held his finger to Will's lips, staring him in the eye in all seriousness. "We'll find Elizabeth."

At Will's understanding quietness, Jack wriggled an arm free, and found Will's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

'Thanks, Jack. For everything." Will whispered, closing his hand tightly around Jack's, the warmth of human contact seeping inward, soothing his anxieties. He shifted, almost unconsciously towards Jack, slipping into the companionship they'd shared for the past eight years, that had somehow gotten lost in the turmoil of the past, long days.

Jack wrapped his arms around Will without thinking, drawing his close, and held him with no words, offering only solid, _fleshy_ presence.

For now, it was just what they needed.

****


End file.
